Chapter 318
[ 501 words ]
Chapter 318:
Caroline glared at him, tears of pure exhaustion welling in her eyes before the heavy medication pulled her down into darkness.
Jarrod stripped off his wet shirt with a single, practiced tug of his left arm, climbed into the bed, and pulled her securely against his bare chest, anchoring her as she fell into a deep sleep.
Late the next morning, pale sunlight filtered through the tactical blinds of the officer’s quarters, casting sharp, horizontal shadows across the bed.
Caroline’s eyes fluttered open. The fever had finally broken, leaving her body feeling completely hollowed out and incredibly weak.
She stared at the unfamiliar, stark grey ceiling, deeply disoriented for a few agonizing seconds, her mind foggy.
She turned her head slowly and noticed the heavy tactical gear neatly stacked in the corner, along with the lingering, heavy scent of cedarwood in the air.
She realized she was in Jarrod’s bed on the JSOC base. But the space beside her on the mattress was empty and cold.
Suddenly, the memory of the hospital morgue and her mother’s pale, lifeless face crashed back into her mind with violent force.
A physical wave of nausea hit her stomach. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her abdomen as the grief threatened to tear her apart.
𝖸𝘰𝘶𝗋 ո𝖾𝘹t 𝖿а𝘷o𝘳і𝘵e 𝗋𝗲ad і𝘀 o𝗇 𝗴а𝗹ո𝗼𝘃elѕ.с𝘰𝘮
She didn’t cry. Instead, a profound, crushing depressive state settled over her, draining all the color and sound from her world.
The electronic lock on the door beeped, and a young female base aide entered cautiously, carrying a metal tray of hot oatmeal and tea.
The aide set the tray gently on the nightstand and respectfully informed Caroline that the Colonel had ordered her to eat every bite.
Caroline stared blankly at the grey wall, completely ignoring the aide and the sweet smell of the food.
The aide shifted her weight nervously and politely urged Caroline to take at least a few bites, citing Dr. Reed’s strict medical instructions.
Caroline slowly pulled the heavy duvet up over her head, retreating entirely into the dark, suffocating cocoon of the bed.
She refused to speak a single word. Her silence was a thick, impenetrable wall shutting out the entire world.
The aide sighed helplessly, left the tray on the nightstand, and quietly exited the room to report her failure to the command center.
Alone again, Caroline pulled Jarrod’s discarded t-shirt from the pillow beside her and clutched the dark fabric tightly to her chest.
She buried her face in the shirt, desperately inhaling his scent, seeking the only anchor she had left in the world.
For the next three hours, she remained entirely motionless, trapped in a dark, endless loop of traumatic flashbacks.
Another aide attempted to bring fresh water and a sandwich at noon and received the exact same catatonic, silent response.
The base medical staff was alerted. Dr. Reed considered coming in to administer IV nutrition if she continued to refuse oral food.
Caroline overheard the aides whispering outside the heavy door about her deteriorating psychological state.
She simply didn’t care. The fierce survival instinct that had driven her through the storm had completely evaporated.
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