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“PTSD?” Maddie questioned. “You mean that something happened to her?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. It could be anything. Rape, abuse, or she witnessed something,” Sam explained. “Something happened that affected her to the point where she has nightmares, hallucinations, and she was so far gone that she even attempted suicide.”
“She never said anything,” Maddie whispered.
“A lot of PTSD patients don’t say anything. Ayla doesn’t know us well enough. There needs to be a lot of trust between the patient and the person he or she shares her experience with.”
“How do we deal with this? How do we help her? We can’t let her live like this.” Maddie started to panic again, her voice rising an octave.
“We are going to help her,” Nikolay said from behind me. Those were the first words he’d spoken since we found Ayla bleeding on the floor.
“But how?” she cried, fear in her voice.
“First of all, be patient and understanding with her. Don’t push if she doesn’t say anything. You could coax her, but not too much. The best way to deal with a PTSD patient is be as loving as you can. Show that you care and support her. Don’t let her feel alone. Joke. Lighten up the mood. Make sure she is happy,” Sam suggested.
There had to have been a trigger. Rubbing the back of my neck in frustration, I tried to relieve the tension there but it was useless. My muscles were corded and tensed. My head was pounding. My stomach felt sick and my heart hurt.
I was so lost gazing at Ayla’s still form that I almost missed what Sam was saying.
“I’m going to prescribe her an anti-depressant. It won’t treat her PTSD, but for now, it could calm her and make her feel less sad, worried, or on edge. I’m also going to give her sleeping pills. It might keep the nightmares at bay. Just make sure she doesn’t take too many at a time,” Sam said. “I would suggest keeping the pills away from her so that she doesn’t have access to them. One of you should be responsible for giving her the pills at the prescribed time.”
“I’ll do it,” Maddie said.
“Good. She needs to be taken care of. Be gentle.”
Gentle. That wasn’t in our vocabulary. We didn’t know what gentle was.
“Boss. Can I take my leave?” Sam asked after a few minutes of silence.
I nodded without looking away from Ayla.
“Maddie, you should get cleaned up,” I heard Phoenix say behind me.
“Let me change Ayla’s clothing first. She is covered in blood. I will change the bedding too and then I’ll go,” Maddie said.
***
After Maddie demanded we leave the room, we waited outside the door. None of us spoke.
I paced. Each passing minute without Ayla was pure agony. I didn’t like being away from her when she was in this state. The thought made me cringe. All the emotions coursing through my body felt foreign. Ayla was making me lose control.
Fuck, I had already lost control and didn’t even realize it yet. She was deep under my skin. Ayla made my cold, unfeeling heart…feel. I felt pain. I felt sadness. All for her.
Leaning against the wall, I banged my head in defeat and closed my eyes with a sigh.
When I heard the door open, my eyes snapped open and I moved away from the wall. “Did she wake up?” I asked. Maddie shook her head dejectedly.
“I will keep an eye on her,” I said, my voice ringing with finality as I walked inside the room. Closing the door behind me, I moved the wooden chair next to Ayla’s bed and sat down heavily on it.
I had to touch her, to feel her. To make sure that she was really alive, breathing and real. Leaning forward in my chair, I gently rubbed my thumb over her fingers and then moved up to the inside of her wrist that wasn’t covered with the bandages. I stroked the tender skin there and ran my thumb over her steady pulse.
I had learned how to mask my emotions and feelings, yet this woman knew how to change it all. In the short time that I had known her, she made me feel more than I had in twenty-two years.
Pulling my hand away, I ran them through my hair. There was no time for weaknesses. And emotions were definitely a weakness. It would only get me killed.
Sitting down beside Ayla, while waiting for her to wake up, I tried to drill that thought into my brain.
And when she did finally wake up, I had my emotions in check. Schooling my features to be impassive, I straightened in my chair when I saw her shifting in the bed.
Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the ceiling, confused. I saw her wince and she slowly turned to face me. Her eyes widened and she let out a shocked gasp.
