20
Axel
Every day,I could see her breaking. She was a piece of glass, and a rock was thrown at her. As time passed, the cracks grew and expanded like tree roots, spreading and digging deeper into her soul.
Millie no longer cried out for her only during her sleep. I'd be driving, and she would have a panic attack. She told me Millie was calling for her, and the crying only got louder.
Watching her deteriorate only made the ticking in my head louder and faster. The month-long journey to get to Nicaragua tormented her. She would hardly eat or drink. I could see her losing weight. She would barely sleep for an hour at a time. And the more roadblocks we came across, the more she fell into the pit of depression and anxiety. I tried to save her from the darkness, but I failed. It finally caught up to her, and her body can't handle it anymore.
"She needs rest," the doctor says when we leave the bedroom. I don't even know if she's aware he examined her. She isn't talking, hasn't left the room in several days, and night terrors about Millie consume her sleep. I've barely gotten her to eat or drink. Her beautiful green eyes are either blank or full of grief. The life that usually resides in them is gone. When she glances at me, the warmth and need for me are nowhere.
It's selfish, but my heart bleeds. I'd give anything for her to look at me how she used to and allow me to take away her pain, even if only for a few moments. And I'm scared she will never look at me like that again.
"What can I do to help her?" I ask the doctor. He's a retired military buddy of Jimbo's. The two men are probably around the same age. He knew Tinker's father, too. So I trust him.
He scratches his bald head. He's a lot shorter than me, and I can see the age spots mixed with the shine on the top of his scalp. He has gentle, brown eyes and a kind, patient bedside manner. "She needs love and rest. Her body is shutting down from the stress. Try to get some food down her. Drinks with electrolytes would be best. I would give her an IV of nutrients, but it could create more panic for her."
"Is there any medicine you can give her to help?" Jimbo asks.
"You can pick up a generic version of Xanax to calm her nerves." He glances at me. "They sell it over the counter here."
"Seriously?" I ask.
"Yep. But the side effects could harm her more. If you're looking to travel soon, I would advise you to grab a natural supplement instead. I'll write it down. It comes in a liquid form and is tasteless. It can be added to her drink. They sell it at all the pharmacies."
"I'll go out and get it right away," Jimbo says.
"Good. There's another supplement with B6, magnesium, and zinc. It might or might not help the night terrors, but either way, it won't harm her. She will have to swallow those tablets."
"What else can I do?" I ask.
He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Rest. Love. Nutrients and hydration. A bit of patience, too."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Patience requires time. And I'm running out of it.
He writes down what to get, leaves, and Jimbo goes to the store.
I go back into the bedroom.
Penelope is sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, staring out the window, and humming her lullaby.
I sit next to her. She doesn't even acknowledge I'm in the room. My fear grows that she'll never really see me again and whatever is happening in her mind will haunt her forever.
I rub her back, and she turns toward me, as if she just realizes I'm here.
"Hey, green eyes." I trace her jaw and smile, trying to hold it together. Panic and fear swirl in my chest, and I have to remember to breathe.
In an emotionless voice, almost as if it's going to happen, she states, "If I die, don't forget your promise to me."
Chills rush to my bones. I tug her close to me and brush the hair off her face. "You aren't dying, green eyes."
"Millie needs to be saved. If it comes to saving her or me, you have to save her."
"It won't come to that."
Her eyes change and face hardens. "It will. I feel it. I see it. You'll run out of time. There's only one option, and it's Millie. I need you to promise me you'll choose her."