Dreams Can Come True

91. Stress

POV Elise

A bit bewildered, I clutched my phone tightly, my fingers trembling as I stared at the screen. Damn it. Bill knew, and not from me, but from his brother. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled with what to do. I could no longer wait to inform Bill. "Bill, call me as soon as you get the chance, please x," I sent in a message, hoping he would respond quickly. But the minutes ticked by with no sign of life from him. What had I done? My thoughts raced like a whirlwind through my head as I held my phone tightly.
I kept staring at the screen as if it could give me the answers I was seeking. Why was Bill silent? Was he angry? Disappointed? Scared? Fear gripped my throat as I wondered how he would react to the news that David had drugged me during a night out. Or what if he was angry because I had told Tom first and not him? Why was he not responding?
My head throbbed, and my stomach churned with worry and stress. It felt like the entire world was resting on my shoulders as I lay there, entangled in a web of uncertainty and fear. But even my body and mind could no longer handle the worrying.
The hospital bed suddenly felt suffocating, and I began to toss and turn restlessly, wrestling with my thoughts. Everything seemed too much all at once, and I felt the fatigue of the past hours pressing on my shoulders like a heavy burden. My body begged for rest, and my eyes felt heavy. I slowly sank back into the hospital bed, my eyes heavy with fatigue. It was as if my entire being cried out for a moment of silence, a moment to let everything sink in. Slowly but surely, I drifted into a deep sleep, away from the chaos and uncertainty of the outside world.

My eyes opened slowly, my vision still blurry from sleep lingering in the corners of my eyes. The hum of the hospital machines filled the room, a constant background noise reminding me of the reality of my situation. My first thoughts immediately went to Bill. Had he responded? Had he tried to contact me? My hand reached for my phone, illuminating the screen in the dim room. With a quick unlock of the screen, I stared at my inbox, but to my great disappointment, there was no message, no missed call. A sense of disappointment and worry stabbed at my chest, and I felt my heart start to beat faster, like a drumbeat of uncertainty.
At that moment, the doctor entered, her figure illuminated by the soft light streaming through the curtains. Her friendly smile broke through the tension enveloping my body, like a gentle breeze flowing through a stifling room. "Good morning," she greeted me, her voice a calm melody in the quiet room. Her eyes, bright and full of compassion, met mine as she approached my bed.
"We've been checking on you regularly, and you've slept well," she said, her words a reassuring beacon in the sea of my uncertainty. I nodded weakly, my thoughts still tangled by everything that had happened.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her attention focused on my well-being like a devoted guardian of my health. "Like a truck ran over my body," I replied honestly, my voice hoarse with fatigue and fear. Her understanding nod confirmed that my feelings were valid, that it was okay to feel this way amidst this chaos.
"That's normal," she reassured me, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. "With the amount of drugs in your blood, I'd guess that feeling will be gone by tomorrow." Her words brought a glimmer of hope, a promise that today's darkness would give way to tomorrow's light.
She began to measure my blood pressure, her professional gaze focused as she assessed the results. But of course, my blood pressure was far too high, a clear indication of the stress and anxiety coursing through my body. Her brow furrowed slightly as she considered my condition.
"Hmm," she murmured, her voice a soft echo in the room as she pondered my results. "You really need to destress," she finally said, her voice full of care like a mother protecting her child from the world.
I tried to stay strong as I absorbed her words, my inner struggle hidden behind a mask of apparent calm. "I know," I whispered, my voice a shadow of its usual strength. "It's not easy."
The doctor nodded sympathetically, her gaze full of empathy as she acknowledged my struggle. "And especially because the police don't believe your side of the story," she continued, her voice filled with understanding for the complexity of my situation. "But you are an incredibly strong woman; don't give up." Her words were like a balm for my wounded soul, a reminder that I was stronger than I thought, that I could weather this storm.
A soft knock on the door, and I looked up to see Bas appear, his usual smile on his face. "Good morning," he greeted us both with a warm smile. The doctor turned to him and shared her findings. "Your friend really needs to destress," she said with a wink. "We're going to keep you here for another night," she added, her gaze back on me before leaving the room.
Bas came closer and took my hand firmly, his gaze full of concern as he looked at me. "How do you really feel?" he asked, his voice gently trembling with emotion. I smiled weakly at him, grateful for his presence. "I'm just glad you're here," I whispered, my voice barely more than a whisper.