"Are you injured?"
"No!" Rachael replied.
"Are you experiencing chest pain?"
"No!" How could this woman stand here pretending to act concerned when her intentions were merely to solve the problem and push her aside instead of listening to her dilemma and putting forth true effort of finding the answers Rachael wondered.
"Are you experiencing sever manic depression or suicidal urges?"
"No!" Although she had to admit her appearance deceived the true answer of being quite sane. She was sure those witnessing this event would gladly classify her as a class A crazy woman. "You are not listening to me."
"Ma'am please calm down." Another nurse carrying a manila folder stopped to observe the scene. Rachael froze stunned. Why was she telling her to calm down? Rachael noticed the nurse turn to the other and display a quick nod before returning her focus to Rachael. The nurse with the folder passed to the desk and Rachael could see she was dialing a number. That's all it took, her sanity broke.
"Who is she calling?" The nurse just stared at her like she didn't know what Rachael was talking about. "Who did she call!" Rachael yelled. Rachael knew very well who they called, which was no surprise but what irritated her the most was the unanswered questions.
"Ma'am we are going to get you some help." Calmly the nurse touched Rachael's arm attempting to quietly escort her back to the waiting wing. Rachael yanked her arm away feeling her head spin with anger.
"I don't need help I want to answers, I want to know if my family survived.
"Ma'am, please, we are doing all we can." Rachael's eyes darted around the room at all the groups of people staring at her. The she looked at the nurse with her jet black hair pulled in a tight bun on top of her head. Should she run, yell, or stay even though that meant putting up a white flag of truce and cooperate. Stay, she thought. It was her best option, but by the time she decided, a hospital security officer had her by the arm and through the waiting room door. His firm grip, like an iron vice, on her arm released to shut the door and trap her inside. He wasn't much to look at; he was short, pudgy, and bald but his strength deceived all who would judge him. He certainly took his work seriously as he stood guard by the door a bit of a scowl on his flushed face. Defeated, Rachael hunched her shoulders and walked with a sluggish pace to the mirror on the wall. What she saw startled her, for the woman staring back at her was a ghostly image of a sickly woman. The light in her vibrant blue green eyes, now dark and the distinct outline of puffy black bags aged her. Black streaks trailed down her cheeks from tears and non water proof mascara. Her short layered blonde hair matted around her face and lacked the volume like her spirits. She could see the officer glance in her direction. She spoke to his reflection in the mirror, "I'm not crazy." The officer snorted and withdrew his gaze. The hot tears blurred her vision and she wished she had stayed in the waiting room, fighting the emotional beast that penetrated the surface of her patient state or mind. The room was quiet compared to the emergency hall just outside the door. The muffled ambulance sirens continued to cry out in their tainted alarms of sadness. Rachael heard the automatic doors swish open. No doubt another victim of tragedy. Life is a fragile and precious gift, which could easily be taken without warning, to pass beyond the veil that shrouds our eyes from a world extended far from our reach. Or, Rachael thought sadly, perhaps death was the end despite her religious Christian background. Maybe there was no life after, just dark, black, nothingness swallowing us whole. Rachael didn't know, she refused to think about the biter ending. Rachael wanted hope, she needed hope of life, but standing here in the only building filled with pain and death, brought doubt and worry with her ever aching heart. Why now? She thought looking at the questioning expression written in her reflection in the mirror. They always said no news was good news, right? The sound of the opening door made her turn. The officer gone, but replaced by a doctor in green scrubs and a tall thin man with glasses. Rachael could feel her heart pumping irregularly. She took two steps forward then stopped. The doctors gaze fell shy of Rachael's, almost like sad reverent respect. The geeky man next to him fidgeted nervously with head bowed as if in silent prayer. Rachael saw her answer in the tired stormy gray eyes of the doctor. It was too late she could hear him say. She shook her head in disbelief. No she thought. He has to look serious he's a doctor. Everything was fine and that's when she heard it the distant cry of pain escaping her own lips.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Taverson. We did all we could." The thought of death darkened her soul. Her body ached and the tears, never ceasing, traveled down her cheeks. She wanted to vomit the room spun so fast. All the voices and noises mixed together creating one deafening roar in her ears. She looked at the clock 12:05am. It was Christmas and she was alone. Rachael felt light headed and her body a teetering mess. The last image that flashed through her mind broke her heart. The haunting question that followed would nonetheless be her downfall. How could I let this happen? Then all went black.
No comments:
Post a Comment