I used to wake from the nightmares, see her next to me, and feel a bit better that she was alive. I couldn't allow myself to get too close, but I could see her breathing, and that was enough.
When she was awake, I distanced myself, which Dr. Mason said was because of my PTSD.
Like how I associated PTSD with veterans, my mind associated proximity to Wendy with nightmares, with fear, with loss. My mind obeyed, even though my body—my fucking soul—needs her.
It's strange, all these conflicting feelings forming a mess in my body, warring against each other until I exploded.
At least that's how I explained it to Dr. Mason, who confirmed that other patients of his with my diagnosis experience much of the same.
My nightmares seem to have gotten worse.
I wake up sweating, unable to catch my breath, unable to fully pull myself from the nightmare.
I still see Wendy, in an awful car accident. They called me at work. I didn't get to the hospital in time. She died and I wasn't there.
Nurse Mina opens my door and turns on my lights, the normal routine.
"Time to get up, Atlas," she smiles, but it vanishes when she finally sees me, shaking and sweating in bed. "Atlas?"
"I need—" I gasp, stumbling to my feet. "I need a phone! I need to call my wife! She was in a car accident—is she okay?"
"Atlas, you are safe, you're at Story Grove—"
"My wife! I need to talk to my wife!"
"Atlas, you had a nightmare. It's okay," Mina speaks soothingly to me, hands on my shoulders and keeping me on the bed. She turns and yells something, and then the door opens again.
More people come into my room—none of them Wendy.
Where is she?! Where is my wife?!
My heart is thumping violently with one name.
Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy...
"Atlas. You are not in danger. Your wife is not in danger. You are at Story Grove. You had a nightmare."
I can't hear her, I can't see her, all I know is that my wife is in danger and I need to get to her before it's too late. I'm fighting as hard as I can to get to Wendy.
"Get Dr. Mason here—call him—tell him to come in. Now!"
Time bends when you're panicked, like you’ve stepped through a wormhole. It's simultaneously moving too fast and too slow.
The people, the nurses I see in the pink scrubs, the orderlies in their navy scrubs, all try to calm me down, but I just want to get to my wife.
I need my wife. I need to save her.
"Please,pleaselet me get to my wife, please—" I plead, and then all of a sudden, Dr. Mason walks into the room.
His face looks bleary, eyes puffy like he just woke up; his clothes look haphazardly pulled on, his shirt untucked and buttoned unevenly.
"She's—something has happened, Doc, I can feel—"
"Atlas, listen to me—" Dr. Mason cuts in, his voice firm. "Let's work through this. Where are you?"
I blink, glancing around the room, feeling disoriented. "I—what? I—uh, Story Grove—I need to—"
"Why are you at Story Grove?"
