Page 60 of Blind Justice

“Ruth, it’s Emme.”The voice was close, but Ruth barely registered it. Her hands trembled.

“I—I can’t see,” she gasped, her voice raw. “Why can’t I see?”

“You’re safe, Ruth,” Emme assured her, but the words felt hollow, distant.

Safe? She was in a hospital bed. She could hear the beeping, feel the wires taped to her skin, smell the antiseptic. But the darkness was wrong. Her breathing hitched again, shallower this time. Too fast. Too uneven.

A new voice. “Hey, Ruth, I’m Sarah.” Someone touched her hand, but Ruth flinched hard, her breath coming too fast.

Emme’s voice—“She’s awake but reporting loss of vision.”

Footsteps. Movement. Voices too close, too far, too much.

Breathe. Breathe.

“I’ll call Dr. Blackwell.” Someone hurried away, the sound of feet squeaking against the floor making her stomach lurch.

The room felt too open, too empty, even with the voices swirling around her. She was trapped in the dark, alone.

“Oh God.” She clenched her fists, gripping the sheets. Her body tensed, every muscle locked and braced as though waiting for another explosion to tear through the world. Her heart pounded too hard.

What if it isn’t just temporary? What if I never see again?

Then— “Ruth!” The voice cut through everything, solid, grounding. A hand, warm and familiar, pressed against her shoulder. “It’s me, Tristan. I’m here. What’s going on?”

Ruth sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers clawing toward him, needing something to hold on to. Something real. The fear didn’t vanish, but it shifted, coiling into something she could breathe through. Tristan was here. Maybe she wasn’t alone in the dark.

Ruth turned her head toward the sound of his voice. “Tristan? I can’t see—I can’t see anything!”

Tristan’s teeth squeaked. “James needs to know about this right away. Where is he?”

“He’s asleep in the on-call room,” Sarah said. “I just paged him. He should be here any minute.”

Tristan’s breath brushed her face. “Ruth, listen to me. You just went through a major surgery. Sometimes vision can be temporarily affected. James will figure this out. He’s the best at what he does. You have to trust us.”

Her hand reached out blindly, grasping his. “Tristan, I’m scared.”

“I know,” he squeezed her hand, “but you’re not alone. We’re going to get you through this.”

“What’s going on?” James was suddenly at her bedside.

“She says she can’t see,” Emme explained quickly. “Her vitals are stable, and we’ve been monitoring her closely. It started as soon as she woke up.”

A presence loomed over her. “Ruth, it’s James. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “James, I can’t see anything. Everything’s… dark.”

“Okay, Ruth. I’m going to do a quick assessment. Try to stay as calm as you can.” She heard the tension in his voice.

The penlight clicked before he carefully opened her eyelids. “Pupils are reactive,” he muttered to himself. “No obvious retinal damage. This could be transient cortical blindness or swelling or residual pressure in the occipital lobe. We’ll need a CT scan immediately to confirm.”

Tristan, still by Ruth’s side, asked, “Cortical blindness? James, how serious is this?”

“It’s usually temporary,” James replied, though his voice was measured. “But we can’t take chances. If there’s any residual hematoma or swelling, we’ll need to address it right away.”

James placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Ruth, I need you to trust me. We’re going to figure this out. The important thing right now is that you’re stable, and we’re going to do everything possible to get your vision back.”

Ruth nodded weakly, her grip on Tristan’s hand tightening. “Please, James,” she whispered. “Don’t let me stay blind.”

---