𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 19
He looked at Karen,
his confusion clear.
"What happened?" he asks
her. Karen took a
deep breath, preparing
herself for the task of
explaining the past
few minutes. "You had
a seizure, baby," she said,
keeping her voice calm
and steady. "But it's over
now, and you're okay."
Plankton blinked slowly,
his eye still hazy. He
looked around the room,
his gaze landing on Hanna.
"You're here," he said,
his voice filled with
mortification and anxiety.
Hanna nodded, her eyes
glistening with unshed tears.
"I'm here," she whispered,
her voice tentative. Plankton's
face twisted into a frown,
his thoughts racing.
He didn't remember her
being here during the
seizure. He didn't
want her pity. He didn't
want her witnessing what
ever may have happened.
His heart raced, his mind
spinning. What all did
he do in front of her?
Hanna looked at him,
her eyes full of concern
and something else, regret?
"You were just playing
with your star," she said
gently, trying to ease his
distress. "And you even
talked about how I was like
pretty bubblegum; rememb-"
"No," Plankton interrupted.
He didn't want Hanna to see
his vulnerability, especially after
what she'd said about him.
The room was silent, the
tension palpable. Karen watched
them both, her heart torn.
Hanna's expression was a
mixture of regret and
fear, while Plankton's was
closed off. "I don't know
if I can forgive you, Hanna,"
Plankton finally said, his voice
no longer slurred.
Hanna's eyes filled with tears,
understanding the gravity of
the situation. "I don't blame
you," she said softly. "But I
hope you can find it in
your heart to give me a
chance to make it up to
you." Plankton looked at her,
his gaze unreadable.
Karen knew that
forgiveness was a process,
and Plankton needed time.
"You don't have to decide
right now," she said. "We can
talk about it more when
you're feeling better."
Plankton nodded, his gaze
still fixed on the star.
"But I don't remember this
star," he said, his voice
filled with confusion. Hanna's
heart sank. "It's okay,"
she said, her voice barely above
a whisper. "It's a toy Karen
got for you to help
you feel safe and lo---"
"No," Plankton interrupted,
his voice sharp. "I don't
remember any of this." His
hand tightened around the
plush toy, his knuckles
white. "I don't remember
anything about this!"
Karen knew Plankton
wouldn't remember the
comfort Hanna brought
during his seizure, the gentle
guidance to focus on the star.
He didn't remember her
soothing voice, her calm in
his chaos. It was like it
had never happened.
Hanna's eyes searched
his, desperate for a flicker
of understanding, a sign
that he knew she was sorry.
But all she saw was confusion
and fear, the same look he'd
given her when she'd first
accidentally used that slur.
Karen stepped in. "Do you
remember our talk about
how sometimes after a
seizure, things can be a bit
fuzzy?" Hanna felt
another twinge of guilt.
"It's okay," Karen said,
sitting next to him on the
bed. "It's normal for
your memory to be a bit
fuzzy coming out of a
seizure, Plankton."
He looked at her, his
eye searching hers. "But I
don't remember you or Hanna
interacting," he said, his voice
shaky. "I just remember...
I dunno." Karen nodded,
swallowing the lump in
her throat. "You weren't
fully conscious, sweetie.
It's like when you wake
up from a deep sleep."
Plankton's frown deepened.
He didn't like not knowing,
not remembering. It made
his chest tight, his heart
race. He knew he could trust
Karen, but Hanna was still
a question mark, her earlier
words echoing in his mind.
Hanna reached out to him
again, her hand hovering in
the air before touching his
shoulder lightly. "I'm here
for you, Plankton," she said,
her voice shaky with emotion.
Plankton stiffened at the
contact, his senses still
on high alert. He wasn't used
to being touched like that,
not without warning.
"No," he said, his voice
sharp. "I don't like it." Hanna
flinched, her hand retreating
quickly. "I'm sorry," she
whispered. Karen put her
hand on Hanna's shoulder.
"Remember, Hanna, we need
to respect his boundaries.
It's part of who he is."
Hanna nodded, her eyes
filling with tears. "I know,
Karen. I just want to help."
Karen squeezed her shoulder
reassuringly. "I know you do,
but we need to do it his way."
Plankton looked up at Hanna,
his expression a mix of anger
and confusion. "Why?" he
asked. "Why'd you say those
things?"
Hanna took a deep
breath, her voice trembling.
"I didn't know," she said.
"I didn't know what it was
like for you. I didn't
underst--"
"Understand what?"
Plankton's voice was
sharp, cutting through
the air. "That I'm different?"
He threw the star aside,
his body tense with anger.
"That I can't just be like
whatever you think I should be?"
Hanna's eyes filled with
tears. "I didn't mean to
make you feel that way,"
she said, her voice cracking.
"I just... I didn't know."
Plankton's chest heaved with
each ragged breath he took.
"Well, now you do," he said,
his voice cold. "Being
someone you can't even
bother to understand."
The room was heavy
with tension, each
of them lost in their
own world of thoughts.
Karen's heart ached for
both of them, knowing
how much Plankton
craved acceptance, and
how much Hanna wished
she could take back her
words. "Maybe," Karen
began, her voice tentative,
"we should talk about it."
Hanna nodded, her eyes
glued to Plankton. "I'm
here to listen," she said,
her voice filled with genuine
remorse. Plankton looked
at her, his expression
still guarded.
"You know what, Hanna?"
he said, his voice taking
on a syrupy sweetness
that didn't quite reach
his eyes. "I forgive you."
Hanna's face lit up with
relief, but Karen knew
that tone. It was the one
he used when he was
trying to cover his hurt.
"Thank you, Plankton," Hanna
breathed, her eyes brimming
with tears. "I really am
sorry, you know that right?"
Plankton nodded, his smile
forced. "Of course," he said,
his voice sticky with
false cheer. "It's all water
under the bridge."
Karen watched the two
of them, her heart heavy.
The fake sweetness in
Plankton's voice was a
defense mechanism, one
he'd developed over the
years of navigating a world
that often didn't understand
his condition. She knew
his words weren't genuine,
his anger and pain still
bubbling just below the
surface. But she stayed silent.
But Hanna, oblivious, took his
words at face value.
"I'm so grateful, Plankton,"
she said, her voice choking.
"I'll do better." Plankton
nodded, his expression
still a mask. "I know
you will," he said, his voice
too bright. "You're always
so kind, never letting me
down." His sarcasm was
lost on Hanna, who took
his words as genuine.
He knew she was trying,
but the hurt went deeper
than a simple apology could
mend. So he played along,
his heart feeling heavier
with each forced smile.
"You're the best, Hanna,"
Plankton said, his voice
dripping with a sugary
sweetness that didn't match
the bitterness in his soul.
"Always looking out for me."
Karen watched, knowing better
than to interrupt.
Hanna's eyes searched his,
desperate for a sign that he
meant it. "Really, Plankton?"
she asked, hopeful. "You know
I'm here for you, right?"
Plankton's smile grew,
his words sticky with sarcasm.
"Always, Hanna," he said,
his voice dripping with patronizing
kindness. "You're like a
knight in shining armor,
ready to save me from
my own autistic self."
Hanna's eyes searched his,
uncertain of his meaning. "What
do you mean, Plankton?" she asked,
her voice trembling with hope.
He leaned back into the pillows,
his expression smug. "You know,
always ready to fix what's not
broken," he said, his eye
still not quite meeting hers.
"I just want to help," Hanna
whispered, her voice cracking.
Plankton nodded, his smile
still too sweet. "And I'm so lucky
to have you," he said, his tone
laced with a patronizing
sarcasm that made Karen's heart ache.
Hanna, though, seemed to miss
the undertones, her face lighting
up at his words. "Really, Plankto-"
"Oh, absolutely," he interrupted,
his voice a knife wrapped in
cotton. "You're like my
personal superhero, swooping
in to save me from the horrors
of being who I am." His eye
flitted around the room, avoiding
contact with Hanna's hopeful gaze.
"It's so... noble of you."
The sarcasm in his tone
was thick, a bitterness
seeping through every
word. Hanna looked at him,
confused. "What do you mean,
Plankton?" she asked, her voice
soft. "You know I just want-"
"Oh, I know," he said, his voice
dripping with condescension.
"You want to fix me. Like I'm
some kind of project you can
just whip into shape with
your magic wand of 'normalcy'."
Hanna's eyes widened, her heart
sinking at his words. "That's
not what I meant," she protested,
but Plankton was on a roll,
his anger giving him a sharpness
he rarely displayed.