Chapter 8:
Self Destruct
“I want
to see Nick... and Kevin.”
Brian
stared into the face of Dr. Westin. His parents and his brother were sitting in
the chairs in his room, having finally been granted entrance by their son. Even
now, their presence was of little comfort. They had been able to do little for
him. He had spoken to them, they had hugged him, and they had offered their support
to him, but none of it really seemed to matter to him. There was only one thing
he needed right now.
He was
honestly glad his family there. He knew that his refusal to see them when he
was awake had been a horrible thing to do, and that they would never understand
why he had shut them out. He couldn’t even explain it to himself. All he knew
was that he was helpless, helpless to save Nick and Kevin, and helpless to stop
the pressure that closed over his chest and at the mercy of lungs that refused
to breathe. The anxiety attacks were almost a routine. If he could just see
them. If he could just reassure himself that Nick and Kevin were there, maybe
they would stop…
“I want
to see Nick and Kevin,” he repeated again, using as much strength as he could muster.
“I’m
afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why
not?” he demanded.
“Because
you are not strong enough. I do not want you to move from this bed until I say
it is ok.”
“But I
need to see them!”
“Brian,
I’m sorry. I can’t let you. Please understand that, it is for your own health.”
“My
health doesn’t matter! Don’t you understand?” His voice broke as tears of rage
streamed down his face. “I have to see them. I have to see if they are ok.” He
took in a few short breaths.
“I’m
sorry,” Dr. Westin said quietly. “They are getting the best care that we have
to offer. We are doing absolutely everything we can for them; you just have to
have faith in that. It is better all around if you stay put.”
“They
need to know I’m there,” Brian said with so much despair that it crushed
Westin’s heart. He had never seen someone so broken as the man who lay before
him. Sighing heavily, he forced himself to meet the intense gaze of his young
patient. “I can’t let you, Brian.”
The
tears came with a vengeance, and Brian balled his hands into fists.
“You
son of a bitch,” he cursed, and then covered his face with his hands as a
terrific sob shook his body. “Son of a
bitch.” This time he said it with despair rather than hatred.
Mrs.
Littrell gripped the shirt of her husband tightly. She couldn’t stand this. Her
son was carrying pain that went far beyond the extent of his injuries. She
thought she had cried until her eyes had run dry, but now found fresh tears
covering her cheeks. She gasped in panic when she heard her son wheezing.
“I have
to see them,” he gasped out, desperate for breath. “You have to let me see
Kevin. I have to find Nick… Oh God where is Nick? Nick! Answer me!”
Dr.
Westin wasted no time calling in support and ushering the Littrells out of the
room. “It’ll be all right, he’ll be ok, but I need you to leave and give us
some space to work,” he told them shortly.
Once
outside, Mrs. Littrell broke down sobbing in her husband’s arms.
“Why
did this happen?” she asked tearfully. “Why did this have to happen?”
* * *
Dr.
Westin pulled the oxygen mask encircling Brian’s head away and replaced it with
one that covered his nose and mouth. It was a difficult task, for Brian had
begun thrashing about in his frenzy. He jerked his head backwards and arched
his back in an attempt to get air. The gashes in his back screamed out in
protest, wrenching a cry of agony from his throat.
“Brian!”
Dr. Westin shouted, trying to get him to focus. “Take my hand. We’re going to
help you, but you have to stop! Take my hand, squeeze my hand! Come on!” he
growled.
Brian
seized the doctor’s outstretched hand with a grip that almost made him cry out.
In his weakened state, there was no way he should have that much strength. He
stared straight into Westin, his deep blue eyes wide with panic and desperation
as the sweat beaded on his brow. The look in his eyes spelled one thing out in
perfect clarity for the doctor to read: He was not going to die. Not while his
friends were still fighting. Those eyes left an imprint on Westin’s soul he
wouldn’t forget until the day he died.
The
sweat dripped down Brian’s face as he breathed in and out at a furious rate.
Westin snapped out of his trance and barked some orders out. This young man was
going to survive even if he had to fight the Grim Reaper himself for him.
After a
few minutes that threatened to last an eternity, Brian’s breathing began to
return to normal. His pulse came down, and his vitals began to stabilize. Not
once did he tear his gaze from Westin until his eyes closed in sleep. His grip
loosened on the doctor’s hand and fell away. Westin discovered that he was
bleeding from the nail imprints Brian had left on him. When he left, the young
man was sleeping peacefully.
Dr.
Westin went out to give his report to Brian’s family. He still felt a little
shaky himself. Westin wasn’t sure how much more of this Brian’s body could
take. If he continued like this, it was likely to kill him.
“How is
he?” Mr. Littrell asked anxiously.
“He’s
sleeping now.”
“Thank
God.”
“I must
say he is certainly not helping his recovery any. Each one of these anxiety
attacks just wears his body out more.”
“What
can we do? Can’t you just let him see his friends? That’s all he wants!”
“Right
now, I really can’t let him. It might help him, but he is definitely not ready
for a wheelchair right now, and to see Nick and Kevin in their current state
may shock him. Mr. Dorough is the only one of them that I am allowing to move
about. As long as A.J. handles things well and feels up to it, I may let him
come visit your son, but Brian is simply not ready. As soon as he can handle
being out of bed, I will have him taken up to see Nick and Kevin. But right
now, it would be very dangerous to do so, especially while he is still having
these anxiety attacks.”
“I
see.”
Westin patted Mrs.
Littrell’s arm reassuringly. “Just stay strong and be there for Brian when he
needs you. He may not realize it, but he really does need your support. It’s
the best we can do for now. The rest is all up to him.”
***
