Night Shift

Chapter 8

"She's doing fine now. She had a massive panic attack."

Allison couldn't tell how much time has passed. She felt herself screaming, and then she suddenly finds herself staring into a bright flashlight that is being held by a paramedic.

"I didn't know what to do, I've never had to deal with something like this before!" The poor waitress was in hysterics. Her face is red, cheeks puffed, eyes still glistening. Allison couldn't help but notice that there was no mascara running or any smudged foundation on her. This girl was naturally pretty.

"You did the right thing in calling us."

The waitress is fidgeting with her left overall, kinking it and unkinking it. Was that why it was messed up before? Was she stressed out and found herself unintentionally fidgeting with the strap, leaving it twisted by the time Allison came in?

Allison was listening in on the interaction between one of the paramedics and the waitress, she didn't know that she was being spoken to by the other medic that is holding a flashlight to her face.

"Sorry, what did you say?" she slurs. Her chest still felt tight, but she could feel it slightly easing with each breath. Her face felt hot – did she cry at some point too?

"I was asking what could have potentially triggered this attack," the paramedic asks. Laurence was written on his nametag. He is a handsome man. Kind eyes and well-kept hair.

"Oh," Allison has to think.

Five years

"It was the news," she says.

"The news?"

"Yes, they were discussing the fifth-year anniversary of..."

She couldn't say it.

Laurence's face shifts. Before it was the face of a man at work – serious, trying not to show emotion. But now his looks softened up, a knowing kind of shock. He knew what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry. I know it was an extremely horrific event, and there are a lot of people that are still recovering from the trauma."

Tears were stinging Allison's eyes.

"Is there someone we can call?" Laurence asks. "Did you walk here? Drive here?"

"I walked," Allison replies. "I was walking into town, to clear my head. To take my mind off of..."

Laurence nods his head. There is no need to say anymore on the matter.

"You didn't answer my other question," Laurence says again.

"What was that?"

"Do you need us to call someone?"

Allison hates this question, and anything that is similar to it. Anyone we need to call? Anyone that we need to let know that you are here and you are fine? Anyone that actually cares that you still exist?

She shakes her head. "No, I don't have anyone for you to call."

As if on cue, her phone rings. It almost feels like a joke, openly contradicting what Allison just says. There's no one for them to call, but yet someone is calling her?

She looks at the screen. It's the hospital.

Something is very wrong.