Scene 6

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Air Force Office of Special Investigations Headquarters, Quantico, VA, 12:32 p.m

The sound of the restraints scraping against the metal chair, in which she was confined to, was a noise she was not soon to forget. The more she struggled the louder the sound, and the louder the sound the weaker she became. She only wished she could yank her head away as they forced it back like they had done many times before. She only prayed that this would be the last time they hid their laughing eyes from her condemnation.

Her only protection from the sizzling water was the six by six, Rite Aid washcloth draped over her face. As the water came, the washcloth tightened around her nose, blocking air from filling her lungs. It blistered her skin as it dribbled down from the kitchen saucepan, hanging over her face. She wanted to scream, but experience had warned her to save her breath. She tried to remain calm, but the burning sensation to breathe overwhelmed her senses. She gasped for air, but air did not fill her lungs; instead water.

The sound of her restraints scraping against the metal chair was a noise she was not soon to forget. It was deafening... and it was a horrifying memory.

Kimberly's eyes flew open. Adrenaline spiked her veins as her eyes dashed around the room, trying to remember where she was.

"Whoa! Kim, what's up?!" Moretti's concerned voiced echoed in her ears.

With nausea setting in, she stumbled backward. Kim wanted to answer but she feared this wasn't real and that when she opened her mouth to answer, water would rush in like it had before.

"Kimberly?" Moretti held her stable against the elevator wall.

She shook her head, shaking herself from the horrible memory.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, letting air once again inflate her lungs, "I'm fine," she stated, convincing herself in hopes to not rise any more concern from her fellow agent.

"Okay..." Moretti backed away, letting Kimberly recompose herself.

Kimberly ignored Moretti's watching eyes as she forced herself to breathe steadily. Fighting the anxiety that weighted her chest, she was bent over staring at her dirty, white converse. When Kimberly's heart slowed to a normal pace and mind began to settle into the present, the elevator bell rang. She jumped as the elevator made a sharp screech as it arrived on the third floor. The sound provoked anxiety once again. Kimberly scratched her wrists, tracing the scars that the restraints had left on her skin. This helped her control her flashbacks, by reminding herself that, at that moment, she was not chained; that, at that moment, she was free.

"Kimberly." Moretti grabbed her arm, steadying her again, "seriously, are you okay?"

She hesitated, trying to hear him over the sound of the memory ringing in her ears, "Y-yes... yes, I'm fine."

Shaking his gaze she looked down at the elevator floor to see that the two coffees, that she was carrying minutes before, were spilled on the ground.

Swearing under her breath, she picked up the two, now empty cups then tried to dry up the ground with her sweatshirt sleeve.

"It's okay. Leave it," the Italian instructed, "Kimberly, leave it!"

She sighed and returned to her feet.

Moretti had already grabbed the bag she had let fall from her shoulder and had his arm outstretched for her to support herself.

"Really, I'm fine." Kimberly refused his arm, walking out of the elevator on her own.

He followed her out, rolling his eyes at her arrogance.

They began the walk down the gray, painted hallways in silence. Kimberly couldn't bring herself to explain the situation to Moretti because she was too busy explaining it to herself. She hadn't had an episode for several weeks. Kevin said she was pushing past her P.T.S.D, but she guessed the lack of rest and shots of caffeine made her vulnerable to illusions and flashbacks. She didn't have time for weakness, not tonight. If she could remain composed for a few more hours, they might be able to wrap the case up and she could go home and rest.

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