"That's good," she said with a nod. "Do they know that what you do is dangerous?" Her brows furrow as she asks, because she can't think of much worse than your parents thinking you have a desk job, and then surprise, you're in the hospital, and you lied to them.

She sort of hesitates when he asks who's going to check up on her, because she doesn't really have an answer to that. Her hand slips from his, and she looks away, and then down at her hands in her lap. "I'm not as hurt as you are," she tries to explain, even though that's not even talking about the mental damage. "So I think I'll be alright." Because she doesn't really have anyone she knows she can count on.

There's a couple of people who maybe - maybe. If she can even get a hold of them, maybe they'd come, but she didn't see how she could even ask for that when she'd never asked them for anything else, and has no idea... she has no idea, but what she does know - deep down, deep in the heart of her - she knows that she can't take it if she asks, and no one comes. She can't, right now, so this is better. With her screwed up, twisted up logic, this is better.