Talk to Me [The Mentalist]

6

I woke up to white lights blinding me. I closed my eyes again and for a moment I felt at peace. No thoughts were rummaging through my mind. For a moment. And then the moment was over again. I opened my eyes and registered my surroundings. I was lying in a bed, the furniture was simple. I was in a hospital room.

I used my arms to heave myself into a sitting position and held my head as it started throbbing. Wow, that was a headache. Had I been drinking too much? No, I hadn't drunken alcohol at all since I had a daughter. I tried to remember what had happened. It was a bit blurry, but I was sure I had heard someone calling my name. I managed to recall the voice to my mind. It was Lisbon. Why would she call my name with such anxiety?

I closed my eyes to be able to concentrate better. My head was hurting too much to keep them open anyway. What had happened to let her call my name? I found a memory of holding my phone, dialling her number with stiff movements. I saw my hands. They were stained red.

And then everything came flooding back to me.

My heart raced and my breathing stopped. It caused a frenzy of signals coming from the machines next to me. My hands clenched to fists, and when that wasn't enough anymore I grabbed the sheets on the bed. I couldn't see anything though my eyes were open and I barely realized the nurses running into my room. I heard the blood rushing in my ears.

Two people grabbed my hands and tried to remove them from the sheets, but that only caused me to grab it harder. The cloth eventually ripped. The beeping sounds of the machines ached in my ears, infiltrated my brain. I still hadn't taken a breath. I felt like if I would loosen the tension the pain in my insides would have killed me. It was overwhelming.

Eventually after an indefinable amount of time the sounds would grow softer and my head would sink back in the pillows. The room was empty again, just one person remained. I realized I had closed my eyes at some point and now I opened them again carefully. The monotonous beeping came from a machine showing my heart frequency.

A soft hand grabbed my fingers and loosened them from the ripped cloth. I blinked a few times to clear my blurred vision. When I finally looked at the person she smiled slightly. "Hey." Her voice sounded relieved. I tried to give a smile back, but failed the attempt. "Hey, Lisbon." My voice was hoarse and barely audible. My throat felt like I hadn't had something to drink in years. "Can you give me a glass of water?" I asked her quietly. She nodded and stood up to get it.

As she returned I still sat in the same position she'd left me in. It took me a moment too long to realize that I needed to grab the glass. In a slow motion I took it from her and took a sip. My throat felt like it was on fire and only after a few more sips it seemed to cool down. I took my time and she patiently sat on the chair next to my bed. She was neither talking nor moving, just watching me.

When I had finished she took the glass from me and put it on the nightstand. She turned back to me. "You had a panic attack." I slowly nodded. She gazed down for a second and then looked up again. "A very severe one." I nodded again.

My mind slowly started working. A question popped to my mind. "What are you doing here?" She fiddled her fingers together and sat them on her lap. She uneasy answered my question. "We were talking when you fainted. I wanted to know you're okay." I watched her face. I could clearly tell she wasn't honest. "That's not the truth. Maybe to a certain point, but not the reason why you're here."

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "You need to answer a few questions if that's possible. We need to investigate." I slightly grimaced. I knew she was just doing her job. I had watched her a few times interrogating relatives of victims. She watched me carefully. "I am really sorry for your loss."

Somehow that stirred anger in me. "Oh, really? You say that to everyone who has lost someone due to murder. Why should you mean it this time?" I spoke a bit harsher than I intended to and she flinched. A slightly hurt look covered her eyes for a short time, but then she regained composure. "If you want to know, I care about every victim. I feel sorry with every family." She rose from her chair. "I will go now. Cho will come to take your statement." Her voice was cold, disappointed. I felt sorry, even though I didn't know if for my harsh words, her leaving my room, or my own loss.