Echoes Of Destiny | Multicouple ✓

9. FRAGMENTS OF GUILT AND ANGER

Avya

One year ago

"Dr. Avya, patient 205" the nurse's urgent voice pierced through the quiet of my study. I tore my gaze away from the case study Dr. Mathur had assigned me, my heart quickening at the mention of patient 205.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my tone tinged with concern, already rising from my seat, leaving my books scattered across the desk.

"Patient 205 is having another anxiety attack," the nurse relayed, her worry evident in the quiver of her voice. She knew how much Miss Mythila meant to me.

Without a moment's hesitation, I grabbed my stethoscope and dashed through the hospital corridors.

Patient 205 was my first patient, a responsibility I held close to my heart. Although Dr. Mathur had been leading her recovery, he entrusted me with a role in her care, recognizing the delicate nature of her case and believing in my potential to help.

I couldn't let him down.

Patient 205 had suffered through a traumatic brain injury involving diffuse axonal injury, her history of recovery wasn't fast paced and the contributing factor to it was more psychological than physical.

As I burst through the door, the room was in disarray, a chaotic reflection of Mythila's inner turmoil. The nurse, already at her side, was attempting to calm her down.

"Miss Mythila, it's Dr. Avya," I said softly, stepping into the room. Mythila's breathing was rapid, her grip on the sheets tight with fear.

"Dr. Avya," she gasped, her eyes recognizing my voice.

"Dr. Avya," she whispered again, her voice edged with fear, I knew what she was thinking, she was living the day of her car accident again, even seventeen years wasn't enough time to heal.

I knelt by her bedside, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "You're safe here, Mythila. We're going to get through this together."

I guided her through deep breaths, encouraging her to focus on each inhale and exhale. But it was to no avail.

Frantically, she begged for help, her words a desperate plea to change the past. The nurse swiftly prepared the injection dose, knowing it was the only way to alleviate Mythila's distress.

"Miss Mythila, calm down. You're safe here," I urged, trying to establish a sense of comfort through physical contact. But her fear persisted, her frantic pleas echoing in the room.

"No, no, he's not safe. Save him," she cried out, her voice laced with panic.

I felt a pang of helplessness as I held her trembling hands, locking eyes with her in an attempt to ground her in the present moment.

"Save my son," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes, her anguish palpable.

I didn't know what to say to reassure her, so I just held her hands in support.

As the nurse administered the injection, Mythila began to lose consciousness, but her desperate plea continued to ring out, a haunting echo of her deepest fears.

"Save him," she called out, her voice fading into the distance as unconsciousness claimed her.

"Save my heart," she murmured, her words a final plea before succumbing to the temporary respite of sleep.

Present

Those beautiful blue greys were the last I saw before opening my eyes.