I Forgive You

Part 11

(Angela's POV)

Then prove us that you deserve to be here.

I kept repeating those words inside my head. Brigitte's voice came through my ears as I stared at the dull ceiling right above me.

You are NOT alone.

Her bright eyes stared as she looked at me, fierce, yet gentle at the same time. Her warmth enveloped me as she pulled me into a hug, firm but welcoming to my arms. When was the last time... I let someone hug me? Let alone touching my skin?

We're all here for you.

That sense of secure and reassurance loomed all over my whole body, that tingling sense of relief as it coursed through me, I could feel the cozy heat caressing my fragile body with safety, just with those calm words.

That's the doctor we know.

...

Something inside me snapped.

Who is that doctor that you have known?

Was I that certain someone before? Did I have that certain character to become... 'the doctor that you know'? Was I already that far beyond of who I am after all that happened?

I tried to remember of who I was, the person of that doctor that they know, but it all came out blur in my aching head, and it suffocated me. I couldn't even remember of who I was before this. Am I that different after one week? Am I that broken to change so drastically? Who am I before this? Why can't I remember?

Who exactly am I?

I couldn't stop my thoughts running through my tired mind, more unanswered questions kept buzzing me as I kept on thinking more and more. I couldn't stop; I wanted to stop; but the fear of not knowing had bested me since ignorance had brought me into this damnation ever since it came to my life.

My head still rested on the soft comfort of my pillow, but it didn't aid my heart racing as it tried to catch up with my overthinking mind lapping through its course. I wanted time to stop, no, I needed time to stop. I need more time.

Angela.

A name was called in my ears. A feminine voice beckoning me with that very familiar name, a name that I always hear when they called me. Then the feminine voice started to get louder as more and more voices came into my head.

Angela.

The same name was called, but it was a masculine tone. It called me as much as the feminine voices kept repeating that name.

Dr. Ziegler.

Different voices, mixed together in unison as they called a different name, yet it sounded as if they referred to the same thing.

Those voices kept calling me those names, all roughly mixed together, desperately trying to get my fleeting attention, until suddenly...

Everything was quiet.

I didn't hear any sounds; no voices, no sounds of the clock ticking at the wall, but it still worked perfectly. No sounds of the IV dripping as a drop went down to the water surface, just absolute, complete,

silence.

Angela....

Dr. Ziegler...

"Dr.... Angela. Ziegler. It's my name." I croaked softly.

It dawned on me as the familiar name was actually mine. How could I even forget such an important thing even after people already called me with those names, every single time they came through that door? Unless, I already knew that it was my name,

but do I know who 'Angela Ziegler' is?

Who is she among her colleagues?

Who is she among her family?

Who is she to herself?

That was the question I should be asking, that was the unsound answer I should be finding for. But all I know of, Angela isn't someone that cried in her bed counting her misfortunes in every nightmare. Angela isn't the kind that find comfort from the people that surrounded her every minute. Angela isn't the kind to sit idly, while waiting for something, good or bad, to happen to her. She isn't weak. That's what Brigitte implied to me.

But who is she then?

I got up from the bed, the aching intensified since it was the second time after forever I glued my head to the pillow, the time when Brigitte help me sat up was the first. I held my head, right at the temple, as I grunted in pain when I did that. I regretted doing it, but I know I won't find what I'm looking for if I kept doing what I was doing ever since I woke up; lying and crying my whole life, feeling weak and sorry to myself.

I knew there were people, out there, needed me more than ever. The people around me, needed me more than ever. I needed to stop this cycle that I had made. I couldn't let weakness took me over and let me be its mistress for the rest of my life. There's more answers I needed to find, more problems I needed to solve, and I'm sure as hell that I wouldn't let anyone stop me, or even interfere to help me solve all of these without me in their equation. I may not be in the best condition, like everyone told me that I am, but I needed to at least do something, and lying down wasn't the solution. I had enough of that.

I felt my bones grind against itself as I moved my worn-out muscle, already shrunk from long-term inactivity. I started to shift more and more until I let my skinny legs dangling on the side of the bed, my back hunched with my hands supporting on my sides. I finally took the chance to look at my dried fingers, all sunken and almost meatless as it daintily pointed at the end of every digit. I could almost feel my bones cracking and collapsing under my skin as if they had severe calcium deficiency, but I tried to fight the 'deformity'.

I got up slowly from the bed, letting my weight supported by my fragile legs as I shifted them closely together, taking small movements at a time. My hands reached for the IV fluid stand that stood near me as my additional support to my weak legs, trying to reach to the mirror hung on the wall right near my bed just to see how far I looked like after all these days. I could barely smell my own stench as the strong smell of medicine stung my sensitive nostril as I already started to move around.

As I reached at my reflection, I could see my face mimicked the shocked expression that I was making when I touched my bony structured face. My cheeks were already sunken pretty deep into the skull's crevices, my eyes were swollen and bulging than before, my skin was so dry it was like sandpapers rubbed together when I touched with my fingers. I looked almost dead, but I'm still breathing. Am I a corpse?

I couldn't even feel my lower body when I walked, it was like I was floating in midair. I lost almost all the senses that I could feel, only to be gifted a chance on my upper part of my body. My throat was dry like summer in a desert, I turned to see the egg sandwich and the juice placed right on the small side table beside my bed, but I couldn't manage to smell the delicacy from afar, even from when I was standing up from my bed just then.

It was all I could ask for, even if it's just a mere sandwich, and a simple fruit juice. But the feeling of gratitude overwhelmed me when I reached for the nutrients offered to me, hastily walking towards there and took the first thing that popped out of my head.

Water.

I drank the pulpy juice to my heart's content. The tangy taste stung my sore throat from the lack of moisture and hydration, but slowly soothed the pathway to my stomach as it refreshes my parched oesophagus. I placed the glass down and went to kneel in front my side table, my hands reached for the rough, yet soft texture of a bread and scarfed down the sweet sensation of the egg, reliving my taste buds once more. Every bite I took, gave me the same reminiscing feeling when I was at the Talon's base, taken hostage in a windowless room with nothing but dry bread.

I could feel the sogginess of the sandwich as I took quite a hard time to swallow the bite-sized pieces along with the regurgitating lump in my throat. A sob escaped from my mouth, already filled with the sandwich's contents, when I wiped the wet tears that moistened my dry, sunken cheeks.

I never felt so alive for a long time.