Chapter 139 PTSD
The soft beeping of monitors filled the room as Rosa gently stirred, her eyes gradually opening. Surrounded by sterile white walls and the crisp smell of disinfectant, she noticed an IV drip hanging just above her head.
In that instant, she became aware she was in a hospital.
Weakness enveloped her as she tried to shift her position; her movements were feeble, her mouth parched. Scanning the room brought her no comfort–no familiar faces, no glass of water within reach.
Her eyes settled on the call button just out of her grasp. Frustration mingled with helplessness as she realized
she couldn’t even summon the strength to reach for it.
“Is… anyone… there…” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper, raspy and strained as if each syllable
pained her.
The sound startled even herself, a harsh reminder of her frailty that echoed uncomfortably close to the ghostly
whispers of her past.
“Renee… Renee…”
The name slipped through her lips, each repetition more pained, infused with a heart–wrenching sob. The voice
she heard was not her own–it was weathered, haunted, a shadow of her former self, shaking her to her core.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs wracked her body until they finally pierced the silence beyond her
room.
The door creaked open, and Sally entered. Her heart clenched at the sight of Rosa–awake, yet so utterly
vulnerable, her tears a silent plea for recognition. Without hesitation, she ran over and pulled Rosa into a tight,
comforting hug.
Rosa’s eyes were blank with confusion, her body shaking as she struggled to escape the familiar touch.
“Rosa… it’s okay, don’t be scared. It’s me. My sweet, sweet girl…”
“Renee… Renee… Save me, Renee…”
Tears streamed down Rosa’s face as she muttered softly, completely detached from reality.
“What happened? Whose name did you just murmur?” Sally’s voice cracked with a mix of confusion and distress as she leaned closer. “Rosa, look at me–I’m your mom. Did you just say ‘Renee‘? Was it that rotten bitch Renee? She’s the one who messed you up, isn’t she?”
Just as Sally’s voice rose in a surge of suspicion and fear, Nixon burst into the room. His face lit up with a brief, hopeful smile upon seeing Rosa awake.
“Rosa, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice a gentle caress in the tense room.
However, Rosa’s reaction was instinctive and immediate. The sound of Nixon’s voice seemed to trigger
something primal within her. Her eyes widened with raw fear, and she flailed violently, shoving Sally aside.
Desperate, she clawed at the hospital blanket, pulling it up to shield herself as if it could protect her from unseen threats. In her frantic movements, the IV was ripped free, and a thin stream of blood trickled down her arm, staining the crisp whiteness of her bedding.
Sally’s scream pierced the room, her courage crumbling as she backed away from Rosa, unwilling to touch her again and startle her more.
“Rosa, please, calm down! You mustn’t move–you’ll worsen your wound!” she pleaded, her voice breaking with
despair.
But Rosa was beyond reach, caught in a tide of terror that only swelled with Nixon’s attempts to soothe her. Her shrieks filled the room, each cry sharper than the last whenever Nixon spoke.
“Honey, what do we do now? What’s wrong with her? My poor, poor Rosa…” Sally sobbed, her face crumpling with grief.
Nixon’s brow furrowed deeply, his worry etched into every line of his face. “Let me get the doctor. Try not to worry, Sally–she’ll be just fine.”
With a swift glance back, he turned and dashed out in a hurry.
Sally lingered by Rosa’s bedside, her tears falling silently as she watched over her daughter.
The doctor pulled Sally and Nixon aside when he arrived, his voice low and urgent. “She’s suffering from PTSD and in a state of shock right now. It’s crucial to keep her environment calm; any undue stress could spiral into
severe complications.”
A wave of dread washed over Sally. Her voice trembled as she sought clarification. “Doctor, are you suggesting that my daughter might… might harm herself?”
“We must consider all possibilities,” the doctor replied solemnly.
“Nixon, please, what should we do? What can we do for Rosa?”
As her emotions overwhelmed her, Sally collapsed into Nixon’s arms, her sobs echoing through the hallway.
The doctor, attempting to find a solution, added, “I heard her mention the name ‘Renee‘ repeatedly. If they’re close, perhaps Renee’s presence might soothe her.”
“Absolutely not!” Sally blurted, her voice edged with defiance.
Her outburst left the doctor puzzled.
Regaining her composure, Sally hurriedly explained, “Renee and she aren’t close at all. It’s just the shock making her say things out of delirium. We’ll stay with her and keep her safe. Please, doctor, there must be
something more we can do to help her.”
