You Are What You Eat (Book One)

Chapter 41

Marshall
November 24th 1989

I tried so hard to forget today but flashes of my mother's homemade cake and her dead and bleeding body kept coming to mind. I managed to be able to stay home sick. I felt so heavy and sick to my stomach. It was my fault she died. I stayed curled up in bed, willing this awful feeling to go away. Willing Uncle Jed's voice out of my head. I could feel his touches and my mom's blood on me.

My father came and checked on me sometime later. "Marshall? How you feeling?" He gently sat on the bed next to me. I mumbled. "It was my fault. My fault. I'm worthless." He gently rubbed my back. "Shh hey, com'on. You're ok. You're safe. Just listen to my voice son."

He kept taking. Telling me what a wonderful person I am. How much I'm loved until the voice of Uncle Jed and my mother's blood was gone from my mind, for now. I hugged him, trying so hard not to cry but a few tears made their way out. "There's my sweet boy. Margret was worried about you, she's downstairs now helping mom with dinner if you want to see her." I sat up straighter, wiping my face. "Yes. I would. I must look like such a mess." He just smiled, helping me up and leading me downstairs, talking. "I'll make us some tea. That ok?" I nodded, walking down the stairs. I heard Margret and my mother talking in the kitchen. I'm not sure what about but I saw brightly wrapped boxes and a cake on the kitchen table. My mom and Margret turned around, smiling. Both shouting Happy Birthday.

I should be happy. I should be in heaven but I was dragged back there. I saw Uncle Jed stabbing my mom over and over again, screaming that nothings don't deserve a birthday. Blood was everywhere. Taking over me. Threatening to drown me.

"Marshall! Marshall! Baby, listen to my voice!" I heard my dad yelling for me but I couldn't bring myself out. I was there again. Holding my mother's dead body as she bled out.

I came back and I felt movement. Like I fell asleep in the car. I opened my eyes, feeling my hand being held, seeing Margret. I looked around. "What?" Margret cried quietly. "Marshall? You're awake?" I saw a paramedic come over to my side. He seemed young. He smiled. "Hey, welcome back. Have a nice nap?" "What happened?"

I didn't remember anything. The paramedic spoke, taking my vitals. "You collapsed and had a seizure. We're taking you to the hospital to check for anything that would have caused it."

When I arrived at the hospital they did test after test and found nothing wrong. They even tried to induce a seizure and they got nothing. I was healthy. Once I was wheeled back to my room I would be staying in overnight, my mom ran over, hugging me. "I'm so glad you're alright. You had us so worried."

I frowned. "I don't even remember what happened." The doctor came in behind me, clipboard in hand. He was older but very nice. He reminded me of Santa Claus with his beard. "Mr. and Mrs. Crawford?" My parents nodded. He looked over at Margret who came to my side, holding my hand. "Who is she?" I held her hand tighter. "My girlfriend. She was there when I collapsed."

He nodded, looking at the clipboard. "Well, I can safely say there is nothing wrong physically. He's perfectly healthy." My dad spoke, sounding worried. "Then why did he collapse and have a seizure? That can't be healthy." "It says in his file that he was diagnosed with PTSD?" My parents nodded.

The doctor looked at me. "Do you remember any triggers that may have started this?" I swallowed. "It's my birthday. Before I was adopted...my birth mother was killed in front of me because she wanted to celebrate my birthday. My uncle we were living with always said nothings don't deserve birthdays." I felt my eyes get watery. I wanted to be strong for Margret but it seemed impossible right now.

My mom gasped. "We did this?" The doctor spoke. "With PTSD it can be hard to find a trigger or very easy. This seems to be his first episode which means he must be handling it rather well. Although not common it is possible to have a psychological, physical non-epileptic seizure. In other words, everything became too much and his brain was taking in too much information that was also very painful. We want to keep him overnight for observation but he should be out by morning. I can recommend a good psychiatrist if you like. She specializes in trauma; I think she would help your son a great deal." My mom spoke. "That would be great. Thank you." He nodded before walking out.