Military Girl

Chapter Three

|| NOT EDITED. ||

Chapter Three

Two days Later

I groggy opened my hot eyes, rubbing the crust that had accumulated at the corners of them. Where was I? Why was I in a bed? Just a second ago I had been in the hotel eating a... a...

I couldn't remember. 

I tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea hit me. Feeling weak and disoriented, I tried once more. I succeeded, but wavered a little once sitting up. 

"Shh, lay back down please," a male voice said to me. My vision was blurry so all I could see was a man in a doctor's uniform with dark hair. "My name is Dr. Fletcher."

"I'm okay," I said, then regretted it. My throat killed. It tasted coppery when I spoke, no doubt blood. I heard myself groan in pain which showed weakness and just begged for pity. 

"It's okay. You're safe and I'm here to help," the same man said. "Lift a finger if you understand me."

I looked down to see needles sticking out of my arms. I ignored them and lifted my fingers. 

My blurry vision let me see the man nod. "You are now in the hands of ESR, but due to your, hm, circumstances we will be postponing your training. Yes, the meeting has already been held and I know you are probably very confused by what's happening. Later on, when you are feeling better, some people would like to speak to you. You are not in trouble. Actually, the opposite. We'll explain everything when you are feeling better. Right now, just rest," he said, some of his words getting slurred before registered in my mind. "Doctor Hans will be coming in to check on you." He nodded, and left the room. 

I slowly sank into the soft pillow. They already held the meeting? I missed it? We still had a whole day left until the meeting, and when did I arrive at the ESR? Confusion overflowed my thoughts. I wanted to scream, I was so pained and confused. Why couldn't he explain what was happening? 

I wanted so badly to cry. Just breakdown and cry. I haven't cried since the death of my father, when I was eleven. I promised myself to never cry. Why couldn't I remember anything? My shoulders tensed against the mattress. I couldn't breath easily, it came out ragged and difficult. 

I realized what was happening before it took place. It was a panic attack. Instead of letting it take over and letting myself scream and cry and suffer, I held my breath until I felt my pulse through my fingertips and my lungs were about to explode. It passed and I nodded into a relaxing state. 

"Hello, Ms. Price. My name is Dr. Hans," someone said. I opened my eyes to see a middle aged woman with peppered hair walk in. "Don't move, alright?" She walked in, carrying a tray of items, then set it down on a table by the other side of the room.

I stayed still. 

"I'll ask you some questions and you can answer them by writing it down on this notepad. Can you do that for me?" she asked, sounding like she was talking to a two year old. I nodded and reached for the notepad and pen she held out for me. 

"What's the last thing you remember? You can answer briefly, it doesn't have to be detailed," she said. 

"Eating breakfast with the other soldiers from Fort Jackson." I wrote.

She nodded, "What were you wearing?"

I thought hard, getting frustrated when my mind went blank. I remembered, but couldn't conjure up the image. 

"That's okay if you don't remember," she spoke softly. "What was your hotel room number?"

"514" I remembered triumphantly.