Of course it hasn't. [ She mumbles. ] It's a deathscythe wound.

[ The apparition - or whatever she should call her imaginary friend - still speaks, despite her attempts to will it away. Despite how resolute she'd been moments before, this falls in line with what she'd been thinking before he appeared. It's easier to go along with. ]

The doctor would wonder why I'm still walking... It will heal, anyway. Eventually.

[ Her voice is small, tired. As though she's merely muttering to herself. ]

Not that it matters.