Death Is Futile

Panic And Freedom

"You scared me, bambina" the voice next to me pierced the otherwise quiet room.

"What happened?" I ask, fearing that I somehow got an infection and was left to die.

"Your dad wanted to see how his 'little girl' was. He caused you to go into the biggest panic attack I think I've ever seen; you were sedated but despite being unconscious your heart wouldn't slow down." She responds, my eyes widening at the thought of Lane being anywhere near me or my wife.

"Did he hurt you? That's why my chest really hurt when I died" I don't think before I speak, looking at Carina I can see that my words had some sort of affect.

"He didn't touch me, just said I was a useless foreigner as he has before. What is it with you and dreams about being dead" Carina quirks her eyebrow as she waits for me to answer.

"I'm not some dream psychologist, love. If I was, I'd probably be earning a lot more than I do currently" I spat, not knowing really what to say about something I don't quite understand myself. "So, I am, okay? Other than the panic attack?" I question, really wanting to not have recovery time added on.

"Perfectly fine, how was your first session with Diane?" She asks me carefully, clenching her jaw slightly as she awaits my reaction.

"We talked about a dream I had, the one that involved Lane. I guess now is as good as any moment to talk about it. It's a little raw and I want you to know that if I stop at any moment, the conversation ends there. Diane said that despite you knowing a lot about my past and my trauma, it doesn't give you the right to know everything. That sounds really rude, but I need you to understand that" I look to her to see her nodding slightly and releasing a big sigh.

"Would you ever want your dad to be better? To wake up one day and just not act how he always has? That's what happened, I died, and he magically became this new human who took accountability for his abuse towards his family. He talked about how he always saw me as an asset and not so much a human, he talked about how he started going to therapy. We both know how the 'therapy' word is a triggering word in my household" I rush out the first of my speech, looking deeply into Carina's facial expressions to gage her reactions.

"He'd heard I died, and he was heartbroken, he wanted to get better despite never being better for me. In the dream, I was with your brother instead of mine. In the dream state, Mason was too pissed to be the one to guide me; I understand that now. Your brother teleported us to a small hall where my dad stood behind a lectern telling his life story. His story with his children and wife, he became a victim. I guess everyone can be a victim, but I'd never see my dad as one. He preached love and how he'd want to have a second chance. He spoke about the medal and the love he had for me in that moment, a fleeting moment as we both know. The funny thing is that he wished he could have another crack at being a parent. Why did it take my death for my dad to see who he was, for him to want to be better. He could have been that for me, why wasn't he there for me?" Floods of tears roll down both of our faces towards the end of my outburst. Carina moves to hold me, wrapping her arms tightly around me and planting several kisses to the top of my head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks quietly after my breathing and heartrate has slowed down dramatically.

"I'm tired, I'm tired of having this idea that he could change. I'm tired of wanting that to change, of wanting to experience a healthy relationship with a dad. I'm tired-" I begin to spiral, feeling somewhat at peace that this is leaving my brain.

"How about we carry on watching our show and see how you feel after dinner? There's three hours until then, which means we could watch 9 episodes?" My wife bargains, a massive grin replaces the frown that had been present on my face, the tear tracks cascading down my face slows to a stop.

"If we watch all nine episodes, we'll be starting the next season tomorrow... the last season!" I speak excitedly as I rush to get my laptop out. Staying in a private hospital room for nearly two months, in a hospital that your wife works at; comes with its benefits. This room has become a little apartment that we both now occupy, the laptop has become a staple of allowing me to time-waste and not dwell on the impending doom which is recovery.

On the recovery front of everything, apparently with no infection and my muscles working to fix myself. It's all going very well, there's no need for a hazmat suit or a guy with tweezers picking at a scab on my leg. The burns are painful, skin peeling, and the redness doesn't get easier. The broken leg and arm have been wrapped in hard casts to stop them from moving, both red because of fire... which seems a bit Ironic, seeing as it took a fire to put me here.

"How are you mentally?" Carina asked, distracting me from the show on the screen.

"Tired but I want to be here and be better" I mutter, the last sentence shared between us until my favourite nurse came in with my dinner.

-

"Did you cheat on me in your dreams?" Carina blurted out as we got ready to sleep.

"Why would you ask?" I questioned.

"Why didn't you answer?" Carina stills as she questions me.

"No" I reply, rolling my eyes because I can all but guess what will happen next.

"Why didn't you say that the first time I asked?" Yep, here it comes. "I can't believe my own wife would cheat on me" her eyes turn glassy, and her breathing become erratic.

"I told you I hadn't. I'm sorry I didn't answer straight away" I carefully respond, observing her reaction.

"Maybe I should knock you over the head so you can go cheat on me again" she threatens, turning away from me, a heavy sigh leaves my lips as I think about how long I should wait to talk again. With that thought in mind, Carina speaks. "You really didn't cheat on me? Maybe these are the hormones my patients have to deal with" Carina has a realisation as she speaks.

"Maybe" is all I utter in fear that more words would set off her emotions.

"So, you're saying that my hormones are driving you crazy? You're agreeing?" Carina alarmingly interrogates me, slowly facing me.

"You didn't say your hormones were crazy, so how can I agree? Have you never cheated on me in a dream?" I question, hoping to catch her out.

"Well... no... yes... I didn't mean to" Carina frustratedly questions herself out loud. I smug smile covers my face, earning an eye roll from her and a gentle hit up the back of my head. Feeling the high of a pointless argument, I fall asleep calmly.

"Can you try?" Carina begged me for the third time as I stood next to the wheelchair. If I can walk, why would I need to be wheeled around. She was begging me to follow the hospital policy, every patient leaves in the wheelchair but I can walk. Surely it would be more beneficial for me to walk and there be a spare wheelchair, but with the death stare my wife was giving me, I conceded to my logic. Planting myself into the rather broken wheelchair, I found myself being pushed by a nurse to the front door. I couldn't wait to jump out of the chair, I'd been given crutches for my broken leg which seemed counter productive with a broken arm but somehow it works. With the break on my arm being on my forearm, I am able to place the crutches under my armpit.