Swapping Spit (Nouis) [under editing]

Chp 36-St. Mary's

The process of dragging my foggy brain from its slumber requires much effort and will power. As I summon the electric parts in my head to wake up and do their jobs, I open my eyes to find that I'm in the same hospital room, same lumpy bed, surrounded by the same paper thin sheets.

For multiple seconds I am calmed by the serene atmosphere surrounding me, the sunlight intruding from the window, the gentle breeze blowing in to sway the curtains, the lack of chaos.

But then memories pour into my mind as if a dam in my head broke and the whole Nile river is exploding over.

"Hello?" I call out, looking around for someone.

"Hello?" I try again, louder.

No one answers.

Where is everyone? A doctor, a nurse, my mom, one of the lads?

Panic rises in me at the thought of being left alone. Upon remembering Richard and his actions, I feel like he could appear any second. I need someone here to remind me what is reality and what is purely a trick of my handicapped mind.

"I don't want to be alone," I whine to myself, beginning to feel my throat choking me.

I pull the blanket up to my chin and sink lower into the bed, eyes watching, waiting for an intruder.

I see a figure pass by the door. I hold my breath.

The figure paces past the door again. He looks strong, powerful, tall. The door handle wiggles as the man places a hand on it.

I stare intensely, waiting for Richard to walk into my room and touch me again.

The door opens. The figure's head pops into my room and I can't hold back a yelp.

As the rest of the body comes into view, I take notice of the white coat, the latex gloves, and the blue scrubs.

"Dr. Jay!" I exclaim, relief now coursing though my body, replacing the fear I felt before.

"Hello, Louis. How are you doing?" He walks to the side of my bed an takes a seat beside me.

I shimmy up so that my back is propped up on a pillow, careful not to strain my broken rib and bandaged back.

"It's a natural instinct for me to reply with 'I'm good', but I'm not good."

His nonchalant attitude shifts to one of concern. "How is your rib? Your back?"

I shrug. "They're fine."

His eyebrows furrow together. He takes a seat beside my hospital bed. "What's wrong, Louis?"

I take a deep breath before I begin. "Everywhere I look, I think I see Richard. Any strange shadow, or a sudden noise scares me half to death. If someone touches me they turn into Richard, like I literally see him instead. I thought you were him until you walked through the door."

"That is a common complaint of rape victims, Louis." I flinch at his use of the word "rape."

He continues. "That's actually what I came here to talk to you about. I've had some concerns about how you are coping with all that's happened. How do you feel you're handling it all?"

"How am I supposed to handle this? Am I supposed to overcome being raped and somehow make it out as a better person than I was before? You know, being constantly on edge in case Richard comes back is so tiring. I just want to be able to have a good sleep without worrying. I see him in my nightmares, too. He's everywhere I look!"

"We have a program with St. Mary's Support Center. They offer great therapy for people like you, who have experienced something traumatic and are having difficulties coping with it. They have support groups, therapist sessions, counselors. I can set you up with a therapist for three sessions a week to start, if you feel that would help?"