Galilee Rising(16)

"Fine. They're examining her now." As if on cue, Jem strides into the waiting area with his head up for once. "Thayer Armstrong, this is Je--I mean, Dr. Ambrose. Thayer is Bitsy's husband."

"Your wife is resting at the moment. I suspect she has a concussion, but we'll need a CAT scan to confirm. She's coherent, up and talking, and that's a very good sign, but a head wound can be tricky. Should the scan show swelling, we'll want to keep her for a few days to monitor her. Regardless, she'll need to stay overnight for observation."

"Can I see her?" Thayer asks.

"Of course. She's in exam two. We'll collect her for the scan shortly."

"Thank you, doctor," Thayer says before walking away to find his wife. If I didn't know the man went through mistresses like socks, I'd almost believe he loved her.

"So, she'll be okay?" I ask.

"Yes, I believe so." He glances down at the blood on my dress. "Were you injured?"

"Oh, no, it's Bitsy's blood. I'm fine."

"And are you, I mean, you just experienced another trauma. Do you need, are you," he stammers, "would you like me to recommend--"

"I'm fine," I assure him. "No psychiatrists. I'll be fine. Just another day in Galilee Falls. It's--"

The sound of a gunshot stops my words and my breath. My whole body locks up like Ft. Knox. For an instant, the hospital vanishes. I'm stuck in a black subway tunnel running for my life as two men shoot at me. The bullets whizzing past me, my sore body pushed to the limit, and even the gravel under my bare, bleeding feet overwhelm me. A man says my name, but his touch pulls me from hell. I'm back at the hospital, shaking uncontrollably as Jem's concerned eyes study me. I can't breathe. No matter how hard I try, no air will enter. This makes me panic even more. I'm gonna die. I don't want to die. Without a word, the doctor grasps my hand and leads me past the nurse picking up the metal tray with instruments she dropped. We enter an exam room. Jem shuts the door before positioning me in a chair in the corner.

He kneels in front of me, dark blue eyes meeting my tear-filled ones. "Joanna, listen to me. Listen to my voice. Listen to my voice. You are safe. This is a safe place. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you here, I swear it to you, but you need to breathe." Jem places my hand on his chest, then covers mine with his. "Breathe. Follow my lead." His chest moves up and down as he takes a deep breath. Then again. I'm beginning to see spots now. "Stay with me, Joanna. I am right here with you. I'm not going anywhere. Breathe. You can do it, Joanna. Just breathe. Breathe," he orders through gritted teeth. I gasp as I expel the air I was holding. Tears trickle onto my cheeks. Jem smiles, making his eyes almost twinkle. He curls his fingers in mine to make a fist. "Good. Excellent. See? It's easy. You're doing brilliantly. Keep going." For about thirty seconds I match him breath for breath, my eyes never leaving his. The trembling lessens with each pant. I can even wipe the tears away. "You're doing great," he says with another smile. Those smiles calm me more than the deep breaths.

A minute later I can breathe without having to force it. I can even talk. "I'm okay," I whisper. I don't really want to but I pull my hand away from his chest. "Thank you."

"How often do you have panic attacks?"

"Whenever some psychopath points a gun at me," I chuckle as I wipe more falling tears away. "Um, they used to be more frequent. Loud noises, a man who resembled Alkaline, looking down from a height would trigger one, but it's been four months since the last one. My old therapist wanted to put me on meds, but I'm an alcoholic." I chuckle again, "Pills are a gateway. I'm not even supposed to have aspirin." I gaze down. "I was on Prozac years ago but it made my thinking fuzzy. God, this is so embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed," he says. "It happens to the best of us."

I look up again to his sympathetic smile. "You have panic attacks too?"

He nods. "Not for years now, but I did."

"Why? What happened?" His face falls a little, and I regret the question. I look away. "Sorry. Sorry. It's none of my business."

"No, it's…my fiancée was murdered. I was the one who found her." I glance up at him in shock. "And the guilt, the…unfairness of it all, swallowed me into the abyss. I know how difficult it is to come back from something like that. For a year I could barely eat, I couldn't sleep. I felt so…empty. Alone. Everyone tried to help, but…" He shrugs. "They just couldn't know what it felt like. They couldn't understand. So whatever you feel, whatever you do to cope, it's normal. Never be embarrassed about being human. Especially around me."