Page 13 of My Girl
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a fright. Come on, champ.” She grimaced. Holding onto his bicep, she guided him through the doors into the room beyond, almost as if she thought he might bolt.
Sheridan guided him over to a chair in the waiting area. Once she had him seated, she went over to the desk. He was waiting impatiently while she filled out a form for him when he heard a high, keening wail of distress he was only too well acquainted with. The sound of a heart breaking at the news of the loss of a loved one.
This time, he felt it happening, was helpless to stop it. He felt the panic, the lack of control, the icy terror flooding his body. He turned his head, seeking Sheridan. His heart pounded, and he felt himself go under.
Sheridan
The sound of deep, soul-deep anguish cut through the noise of the emergency room, silencing it momentarily. Sheridan swung around, looking over at Gabriel still sitting where she’d left him. Her heart shot into her throat as she took in the huge, glassy eyes he turned to her. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, alerting her to the impending panic attack.
Ah dammit! Hang in there, champ. I’m coming.
She turned back to the desk. “Is that all you need?”
“Yes, thank you. We’ll call you as soon as it’s Mr” — the nurse behind the desk read Gabriel’s name off the form -— “Stone’s turn – when doc is ready for him.”
Hurriedly, she thanked the woman and dashed over to where Gabriel sat. Reaching him, it felt as if he’d sucker punched her as he looked at her with more pain and anguish than any human being should ever have to feel.
In disbelief, she watched as he sank to his knees – seemingly oblivious to the injury to his leg — and wrapped his arms around her thighs. His eyes latched onto hers before he broke her heart where she stood with words barely above a whisper.
“Mercy. Please. I’m sorry. Please make it stop. I can’t take it anymore.” With that, he buried his face in her midriff as the first sob ripped free.
It hurt Sheridan to see this big, strong, usually together man shatter so completely. Unable to do more, she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him to her as she bent awkwardly to try and bring him some level of comfort.
“Ma’am?”
She heard the concerned voice and turned towards where it had come from. “Yes?”
“I can see the gentleman is bleeding, quite badly by the looks of things, and appears to be in extreme distress. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you through to a cubicle. You can wait there while I go and call a doctor for you.”
Dropping her gaze to Gabriel, she wondered how she was going to manage it. As if she’d read Sheridan’s thoughts, the nurse called for an orderly to assist them. Between them, they got the distraught man into a wheelchair. Not sure where she’d disappeared to, Sheridan saw the nurse return. It was then she realised the other woman had gone to fetch a caution sign to warn others of the blood that had pooled on the floor.
Wordlessly, she clasped Gabriel’s hand to let him know she was still there, but she doubted he would feel it as he’d become so lost in his own nightmarish world. Guilt ate at her. She’d known he needed help; she just hadn’t realised how good he’d been at hiding how badly he needed it. As someone trained to spot it, she felt she’d failed him by not seeing the severity of his state of mind.
They were shown to a cubicle almost at the end of the treatment area. The kindly nurse told them she’d be back with the doctor as soon as she could, and then she left them. Sheridan rubbed a soothing hand down Gabriel’s back, crooning nonsense softly to him as she tried to calm him. Looking around the room, she spotted a chair off to the side. She went to fetch it, put it down next him, and wrapped her arms tightly around his shuddering frame.
Without being aware she was doing it, Sheridan rocked him gently as one would a child. She fought to calm her own chaotic thoughts to better help him, to remember her training. It was her job to help people suffering, just as Gabriel was, but in that moment, she felt as green as the day she’d seen her first private patient.
She thanked her lucky stars as a doctor bustled into the little curtained off area where they sat, followed by the nurse from earlier.
“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Dr Goodman.”
“Evening, Dr Goodman. I’m Sheridan Daniels. I’m Mr Stone’s ...” For a second, she scrambled with what to call herself, fully aware they’d likely ask her to wait out front if she wasn’t family. “Fiancée,” she finally finished.
He consulted the file he held. “I see it says here Mr Stone has quite a nasty gash in his leg. You apparently couldn’t staunch the bleeding?”
“That’s correct.”
“But this seems more than an injured leg.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure what set him off this time. I was at the desk with the nurse. We heard a woman begin to cry, and when I turned to Gabriel, he seemed to be triggered into this state.”
“Any idea what might have triggered his episode and what is being triggered?” the doctor asked while already assessing Gabriel’s wound.
“Gabriel – Mr Stone — suffered trauma as a young teenager when his parents and siblings were murdered during a farm attack. Then, recently, he was involved in a serious bus accident. He’s just recently returned home after being treated in Texas for the injury to his right arm. In the week he’s been back, I’ve seen him have two panic attacks. Earlier, it was the squeal of brakes. The last time, a child screaming. And now this.”
The doctor nodded. “All right, Ms Daniels. We’ll get this leg stitched up, and then we can assess his mental state further, yes?”
“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll step out to give you room to work.” Sheridan pointed to a tiny waiting area in the treatment room. “I’ll be over there when you need me.”
