Nearly two weeks of futile silence and now a deluge. Her fear is so severe and consuming it radiates like a flare, burning brighter than all other emotions in the room.
Except, perhaps, one other.
“What’s happening?” says James, eyes wild, as a team of medics rush around him. “What the hell just happened?”
“She’s going into shock,” says one of them. “I need you to get out of here—”
It’s a struggle to remain focused on Rosabelle.
The uproar and influx of bodies makes for a staggering flood of psychic feedback; I have to brace myself against it, steeling my mind as if to withstand the lashes of a firestorm.
“Wait—what?” says James. “Why is she going into shock?”
His fear, her fear.
“She needs to calm down—she’s lost control—”
His fear, her fear.
“But she was fine a second ago!”
I close my eyes.
Collective urgency; flashes of anger; the slam of metal; the rush of wheels; impatience; irritation; the proliferation of alarms; the rattle of carts; vibrations of footfalls—
“Blood oxygen levels at ninety-two percent and dropping,” shouts a medic I know well. Dr. Kazemi. “Heart rate is spiking—”
I open my eyes.
“James, get the hell out of my way,” someone barks at him.
“General,” says Dr. Kazemi, speaking in my direction. “If we don’t do something quickly, she could end up with permanent organ damage—”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” James yells, rearing back as soldiers surge around him.
Rosabelle is hyperventilating.
Her eyes are directed toward the ceiling, wide with panic. The harnesses are undone and unnecessary, hanging like dark streamers from her hospital bed. She can’t seem to move. Her terror is so severe it’s paralyzed her.
No, it’s greater than terror.
It’s terror advancing into hysteria, cut by shame and self-loathing.Despair.
Interesting.
“C’mon, man,” says Liam, “you can’t be here right now—”
“What are you going to do to her?” James cries, fighting the group of soldiers trying to drag him away.
I stretch my neck, tense my jaw. The room is thick with anger and frustration. The rise of collective panic threatens to blot out Rosabelle’s feedback.
I close my eyes again.
His fear, her fear.
“James,” says Allie, “she’s going to be fine—”
“Blood pressure is falling!”
