Chapter 705
[ 467 words ]
Chapter 705:
Beatrix didn’t respond. She was trapped in a nightmare, her breathing growing ragged and harsh. Her fingers clenched into a fist, knuckles white.
Caroline put her ear close to Beatrix’s lips, trying to make out the garbled sounds. It was one word, repeated over and over, a desperate, broken plea.
“Sterling… Sterling…”
The name hit Caroline like a physical blow. Sterling. The man in the earthquake. The man whose legs were crushed by a concrete slab because he had pushed her out of the way. Beatrix’s brother.
A heavy, suffocating weight of guilt settled in her chest. The universe had a cruel, ironic sense of humor. The web connecting her to this woman was thicker and more tangled than she had ever imagined.
Beatrix’s hand flailed, grabbing at empty air.
Without thinking, Caroline reached out and took it. She wrapped her fingers around Beatrix’s, her grip firm and steady. She didn’t say anything. She just held on, trying to anchor the other woman to the real world.
Slowly, under the steady pressure of her hand, Beatrix’s frantic movements began to subside. Her breathing evened out. The deep furrows in her brow smoothed.
𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹 𝗣𝗗𝗙𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗺
But as the nightmare released its grip, a single, glistening tear escaped the corner of her eye and traced a silent path down her temple.
The morning sun cut sharp, dusty lines through the blinds, striping the white sheets on Beatrix’s bed. Caroline sat in the stiff metal chair beside her, a heavy military field medicine manual open on her lap. She’d read the same paragraph on shrapnel wound debridement three times, her mind unable to focus.
A low, pained groan came from the bed.
Beatrix’s long eyelashes fluttered. She blinked, once, twice, trying to force the world into focus. The harsh light made her wince. Her gaze drifted vaguely around the sterile room before finally landing, and locking, on Caroline’s face.
Her body went rigid. Her pupils dilated, a flash of pure, primal fear in their depths. She tried to recoil, to push herself away, but her muscles screamed in protest.
Caroline closed the manual and set it aside. She stood, picked up the plastic cup of water from the bedside table, and angled the straw toward Beatrix’s lips. “You’re dehydrated,” she said, her voice calm and professional.
Beatrix jerked her head away as if the straw were a venomous snake. With a surge of adrenaline, she swung a weak, clumsy arm, knocking the cup from Caroline’s hand. Water splashed across the clean sheets, a dark, spreading stain.
“What are you doing here?” Beatrix rasped, her voice a dry, cracked whisper. “Did you come to watch me? To enjoy this?”
Caroline didn’t react to the hostility. She calmly picked up a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and began blotting the spill. “I brought you here,” she stated, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.
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