Dr. Landers removed his horn-rimmed glasses and set them on the notepad sitting atop his lap, his contemplative gaze on me. “You can’t stay here forever, my dear.”
“I know.” My heart clenched as hot tears burned the back of my lids at the thought that no one had come looking for me.
“He’s offered to take you to his home, to take care of you.”
“But he doesn’t know me, right?” He nodded. “Then why would he want to take care of a stranger?”
Dr. Landers’ laugh was low. “As much as you’re inclined to believe that only sick men live outside these walls given your injuries, there are good ones too. Kind strangers willing to go out of their way for someone they rescued but don’t know is rare and an opportunity you should seize.” He exhaled on a long sigh. “You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal, Ashrika.” The name was still foreign to me. When the doctor asked me to select one, that name sprung to mind with no recollection whatsoever. I would never know if it was my real one or not. There was no one to ask. Blinking, I refocused when he began speaking again. “I would rather release you into the hands of someone I know, even partially than let you go out alone unless you decide otherwise. We might not know your age, but I can safely deduct you’re an adult. So, you’re capable of making up your mind.”
I lifted my shoulders in a slight shrug. “Just one more week and I’ll make a decision, please?” My voice begged him to understand and fortunately, he was the sweetest person I’d met since waking.
He put his glasses back on with a low laugh. “One week, then I’m deciding for you.” His scolding came with a gentle smile and had me smiling in response. “Until then, let’s work on getting you to walk out of this place without having a panic attack.”
I nodded. “Baby steps?”
He rubbed his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve been in a coma for close on four years, Ashrika, I’d be remiss if I suggested anything more. I want you to try something for me, okay?” At my nod, he continued, “I want you to go outside from tomorrow. The second you leave that threshold,” he gestured to the door, “I want you to concentrate on counting your steps.”
“Counting my steps?”
“Yes. When you reach a number you can’t go beyond, you turn and count the steps back to your door. Every day, I want you to go twenty steps further or a number you’re comfortable with. Can you do that for me?”
I drew in a deep inhale. “What if I can’t make it out the door?”
“I will assign a nurse to watch over you, but.” He set his notepad aside and stood. “I understand your fear, sweetheart but if you don’t push yourself into overcoming it, you’ll never recover. Don’t see your memory loss as a hindrance, use it to bolster your confidence.”
“How?”
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you, but it can direct you into believing it can. Am I wrong in thinking you want to live beyond these walls?” I shook my head. “Then, you’ll get there, only if you keep trying. Come.” He held out a hand.
I frowned. “Where?”
“We’re going to attempt those first steps together.” When I hesitated, he offered me a gentle smile. “Believe, Ashrika.”
With another deep inhale, I stood and reached out to take his hand. Together, we walked toward the door. Part of me wished I could go home with him. But he was my doctor and I didn’t think it was right to burden him with such a request. For now, I had to work up the courage to not only venture outside that door but meet my rescuer, who’d been nothing but understanding.
****
“ONE THOUSAND AND SIXTEEN,” I stopped counting, stood still, and surveyed the area around me. It had taken a week, but I’d done it—I’d taken one thousand and sixteen steps from my apartment to the street outside the gates. While the counting had helped to block out my surroundings and concentrate on walking, now that I’d stopped, I felt the first stirrings of panic at the base of my spine. Slowly, it wound its way upward, heating the back of my neck and thickening the sudden growth in my throat. I glanced around, desperate to get out of the open, away from people walking about and who weren’t even looking at me.
“Cut it out, girl, you can do this,” I said under my breath. Although this was the furthest, I’d ventured, the dread I’d kept at bay for the last week had already started a slow ascent from the pit of my stomach, heading unchecked for my heart, pumping blood an faster than I thought my lungs could keep up with. My eyes darted in all directions, landing on a coffee shop a few feet away. Keeping my head down, I made a beeline for the entrance and dropped into the first available table. My body shook. I stared at my trembling hands and clasped them together in the hopes the quivering would abate.
The rate of my heartbeat escalated to a speed that I feared if it persisted, I’d suffer a heart attack. Judging by the sweat dripping from my face into my hands, I’d probably internally combust before the heart attack had a chance to detonate. Forcing myself to calm down, I drew in slow, deep breaths as Dr. Landers had shown me. Epic fail. I jumped when someone stopped by my table and touched my hand.
“Hey, honey, are you okay?”
Nodding furiously, I swallowed and risked a glance up at the smiling waitress. “W-water, p-please,” I stuttered.
She stared at me before the tenderness in her smile intensified. “Sure.” As she turned away, she glanced over her shoulder. “Deep breaths.”
Keeping my eyes downcast, I gulped wondering if she’d picked up on my anxiety. No shit. I was sweating like a pig and if that wasn’t an indication of my panic-stricken state, then the hard pants were a dead giveaway. She returned a couple of seconds later with a glass of water. I grabbed it with both hands and guzzled it down, giving no thought to the contents spilling from the sides of my mouth and wetting my dress. My hand was shaking so badly that when I held the glass out to her, it slipped through my clammy hands. The shattering glass exploded into fragments as it hit the floor, the noise echoed and a hundred pairs of eyes stared my way. Or rather what felt like a hundred pair. My head swung in all directions in sharp snaps, the heated whispers catching my ears.
I shot to my feet, swiping the cutlery on the table in my rush. The clatter ricocheted through my body, startling my frazzled nerves. I jumped, not recognizing the yelp escaping my lips, “Oh, God.”
“Hey, honey, it’s—” the waitress reached out a hand.
I shrieked again, shoving at her hand. “Leave me alone.” I backed away. Oh, God, they were all coming toward me. They were closing in. “Please...” I pressed a hand to my chest. The rapid rise and fall beneath my fingers was a clear indication I was hyperventilating. I backed away, straight into someone at my rear, sending something flying from their hand. I screamed at the sudden racket.
“It’s okay, honey,” her soothing voice trying to coax my racing heart, my waitress took another tentative step toward me.
