“Here,” Jonah offered her a knife, sheathed in a piece of carefully cared for leather. “It’s yours, Petra. Maybe you remember?”
She said nothing, but looked up and down between Jonah and the knife. Jonah shrugged like he couldn’t really care either way. “You were trained with it, and even if you can’t remember it, I’d bet your muscles would react automatically.” Jonah gave another half shrug, setting the knife down on the foot of her bed. “I want you to feel that you can defend yourself if you feel threatened. It sucks to be defenseless.”
“Are you defenseless now?” Petra asked.
“No,” Jonah sighed, “No. Being defenseless was my first mistake.”
There was something he wasn’t saying, but Petra didn’t know how to ask. He nudge the knife forward a little on the bed. “Take it. Just in case.” Petra reached down and picked it up, and found she did feel better to have it in her hand. She pulled the knife half way from it’s sheath and though she still couldn’t place it, it did feel familiar.
“Thank you,” Petra answered, part manners didn’t remember learning, and part gratitude.
“Yeah,” Jonah said looking at the exposed blade. “Least I can do.” He blinked a few times, before heading out of the hospital room.
Petra slid the knife back into the leather, and slipped it under the blanket, pressed against her leg. She felt safer with it there. The rest, she’d figure that out later.