Page 53 of Healing Hazel

“Hazel.” He held her shoulders. “I can help you. Will you let me?”

“Trapped.” The word came out as a gasp.

Tears dripped onto her knees, and by the sound of her breathing, she was in danger of hyperventilating. “Focus on drawing air into your lungs,” he said. “Then push it out. You must get your breathing under control.”

“One... two, three...” Her breathing was uneven as she counted through her sobs.

“Breathe in slowly through your nose,” he coached. “Then out through your mouth.”

“One... two... three,” she whispered. She blew out her breaths, counting again.

She was still shaking. Jim had dealt with such episodes before. He knew if the patient could focus on something, anything, other than the source of the panic, they might be able to calm themselves. Hazel had obviously learned some strategies for regaining control. He didn’t believe she’d had to use them under such extreme circumstances, though, and feared she would find it more difficult here.

He shook her gently, getting her attention. “Hazel, look at me. Look at my face.”

She lifted her gaze, drawing in a jagged breath and blowing it out.

“Tell me something, anything at all. What do you see before you?”

“Your collar,” Hazel whispered. “There is blood on it.” Her breath hitched.

“Good. What else?” Jim asked.

“A small mole.” She breathed in and out. “Or a freckle, right near the corner of your eye.”

“Keep breathing,” Jim said. “In through your nose, then out through your mouth.”

Hazel did as she was told. “Yes. My doctor—that is what he told me.”

She seemed more coherent. Jim decided to keep her talking. “You’ve experienced these spells before, then?”

“Yes.” She drew in a slow breath and blew it out. She was still shaking, but her voice sounded calmer. “Since I was a child.” Her voice caught.

“Breathe,” Jim said. He moved back around to sit next to her with his back against the wall and put an arm around her, pulling her against him.

She leaned a shaking head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just...”

“No need to apologize,” Jim said. He rubbed her back. “Keep your thoughts steady. Concentrate on your breathing.”

After what he guessed was half an hour, Hazel’s breathing at last grew calm and her shaking stilled.

“Hazel?” Camila’s voice came from the darkness beyond the lantern light. “¿Estás bien?” She came forward, kneeling in front of them.

“Sí,” Hazel said. “Estoy bien.” She sounded tired, her voice still unsteady.

Camila cupped her friend’s cheek, giving her a reassuring smile, and bid her good night, nodding to Jim before returning to lie down beside Lucía.

Hazel shivered. Jim took a blanket from the pile the captors had left and wrapped it around her, then wrapped another blanket around his own shoulders. She leaned her head to the side, resting against his shoulder.

In the darkness beyond the lantern’s light, they could hear quiet grunts and movements as their companions settled themselves for sleep. Before long, the nurses’ deep breathing could be heard as well as Dr. Laurent’s soft snores.

Hazel’s head was heavy against Jim. He shifted his position the smallest bit, worried that if he extended his legs too far, he’d kick one of his companions in the dark.

“This is why I couldn’t finish nursing school,” Hazel said in a voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake the others. “The panic spells. I never know when...”

“Have you any idea what brings them on?” he asked.

“Tight spaces, feeling trapped or crowded...” Her words came slower, drawn out as if she were falling asleep. “The episodes always end, but each time, I fear they won’t, that this time will be different—that I won’t survive.”

---