desertion

79

LYDIA

The thoughts wouldn't stop swirling. They never did, but today they were heavier. Maddie had left, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on my chest like a boulder. Maddie was gone. She left Chimney and Jee-Yun. What about Chimney? How was he holding up? And Jee-Yun-what if she didn't recognize Maddie when she came back? If she came back.

I felt so helpless, so useless. I couldn't do anything for myself, let alone anyone else. And now I was putting so much stress on everyone. My dad, Buck, Miles-they were all carrying my burdens alongside their own. I hated it. Hated that I was crying all the time, that I couldn't even reassure them that I was okay. Because I wasn't.

I glanced at Miles and my dad sitting beside my bed. They were both watching me with worry etched into their expressions. I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks again, could see their concern deepen within every drop. They probably thought I was hurting physically. I wasn't. It was the emotional pain, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of being trapped in my own silence that made me cry endlessly.

Buck was on the other side of my bed, his hand moving in soft, soothing circles on my back. I wished I could hear his reassurances, hear the soft, grounding tone he always used when things got hard. But I couldn't. I couldn't hear anything, and it made me want to scream.

The door opened as I glanced up. The doctor walked in holding a stack of papers, which he handed to Dad. Dad's brow furrowed as he scanned the documents, and I sat up, holding my hand out for them. He passed the papers to me, his frown deepening, and I stared down at the bold letters at the top: Discharge Instructions.

I shook my head, the papers trembling in my hands. I should feel relieved, right? Happy to go home? But I wasn't. I wanted to leave this hospital, but I wanted answers more. Answers about my health, about the seizures, about why my body felt like it wasn't mine anymore.

A nurse walked in with a small plastic bag and handed it to me. I peeked inside and saw the clothes I'd been wearing when I was brought in. The nurse gestured toward the restroom in the corner of the room, and I handed the papers back to my dad before heading inside.

I closed the door behind me and looked in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was unrecognizable. The girl I used to be-the fiery, passionate me-was gone. I looked lifeless. My skin was pale, my eyes dull and rimmed with red. I looked dead inside, and maybe I was.

I sighed, shaking my head before putting on my old clothes. They felt strange after days in a hospital gown. Like they belonged to someone else. I gathered the gown, folded it into the bag, and stepped back into the room.

The nurse took the bag from me with a kind smile. I tried to smile back, but it faltered as a tear slipped down my face. I felt Buck's arm slide around my shoulders, steadying me as we left the room.

The moment we stepped into the hallway, I noticed the stares. People covered their mouths with their hands, turning to the people beside them, their expressions a mix of pity and disgust. I felt my stomach twist. What was going on?

I glanced up at Buck, my brows furrowed in confusion, but he just shook his head and gently steered me toward the exit.

The ride to the fire station felt endless. I stared out the window, trying to push the unease from my mind. But when we arrived, the weight of everything I was feeling only grew.

The moment we walked in, Athena was there, pulling me into a warm hug. I froze, my mind racing. Why was Athena here? She was supposed to be on duty. This had to be about Maddie. What else could it be?

Athena pulled back and said something to Buck, her hands cupping my face as she spoke. I couldn't hear a word, but I could tell Athena was talking fast-too fast. I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest as I tried to keep up.

"Stop," I wanted to say. "Slow down. I can't-" I tried say it but the words didn't come out, I couldn't talk all of a sudden.

Athena must have noticed my panic because she wrapped me in another hug, whispering something I couldn't hear. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I couldn't let myself spiral. Not here, not now.

But it was so hard. Normally, the fire station would feel like home. The constant hum of voices, the clang of medal, the sound of trucks pulling in and out-all of it would ground me. But now, it was all gone. The silence was deafening.

And in that silence, one terrifying thought echoed in my mind: What if I never hear again?