Megan Henderson (meganinthedark) wrote in downfallrpg, @ 2010-04-05 23:04:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | # backdated, # status: completed, 2015-08-30, megan, megan and zane, zane |
PTSD (backdated, Day 9)
Who: Megan and Zane
When: Day 9, Evening
Where: Megan's room
He'd been told that Megan was okay and, for the most part, believed it given no one had rushed to get him to help with any injuries she'd sustained. Yet as the day went on and he hadn't seen the redhead about the hotel, he began to wonder. To turn his back and simply wait for her to show her face again would be easy. To always only think of himself would be the easiest way to survive of all. Yet he couldn't, and he tended to blame his medical training for the moral obligation. As someone who could help, he should. Now more than ever. Especially given that the woman had been attacked.
He questioned other residents of the hotel to find out where her room was, and the made his way there. Zane knocked on the door and called through, "Megan?" before trying the knob. He pushed the door open slowly, peering inside. "I came to check if you're alright."
Megan hadn't been up to much since the attack. Her current state barely qualified as conscious, really. Sure, her eyes were open, and when someone (she wasn't entirely sure who) had helped her, she'd been able to drink some water. But now she just lay there in the dark, dressed in a large t-shirt with her ankle heavily bandaged, blind eyes twitching back and forth. Occasionally she would get flashes of someone in the room with her- their scent, their sounds, but it had barely registered. Everytime she approached a lucid state, she had flashes again. The smell of his breath. The feel of his hands gripping her, violating her, the horrible sound of his voice as he told her what he was going to do with her. And she would retreat back into a blur.
Now someone had entered her room again. She knew this, intellectually, but didn't really respond. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the voice. Of the survivors, it was one of the ones she knew best, having been around it almost since this whole ordeal had began. But she couldn't quite place the name at the moment. So she did one thing she knew she could do. She hummed, the same haunting melody she'd hummed after the attack.
Clearly, she wasn't alright. Zane stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. He had the momentary thought that he should have brought a flashlight for her, and then remembered they were the only two people in the hotel who had no use for one. "Megan?" he tried again, in case she hadn't heard him. "It's Zane." He stepped further inside, his eyes sweeping over her and lingering for a moment on her wrapped ankle. Sprain? Break? Gash? He couldn't tell based on the bandage. He took a seat across from her, still watching her closely. He should have come to see her first, though her state seemed to be mental more than physical. "What are you singing?" It was beautiful, in a way that made the hair on his neck stand on end.
The words seemed to come across the haze towards her, distorted, echoing, yet feeling oddly comforting as the sound washed over her. It was enough to at least momentarily distract her from the ether surrounding her. She felt like she should respond. It was a male voice, which right now made her want to instinctively curl up and hide, but again, one she knew fairly well. One she had trusted in the past, however reluctantly, and one she felt like she should trust now. She stirred slightly, although it wouldn't have seemed like much to anyone watching at the time. "Druid Moon," she mumbled, feeling as if she was having to shout across the vast expanse to be heard.
"It's lovely," he commented, still scrutinizing her. He couldn't help thinking of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as he looked at her, though he wasn't a psychologist by any means. He remembered some of the veterans and assault and rape victims that had come into the hospital during his years in medical school. The rape victims in particular became very separated from themselves. "Have you eaten anything today, Megan?" He tried to keep his voice soft as he talked to her, not wanting to make her feel uneasy or unsafe.
Eating? She didn't need to do that. Earlier the Goddess had come to her and brought sweet nectar to her lips, filling her with warmth and a safe feeling, and that was all she needed. The deep voice still spoke to her, though, from wherever it was coming from. She shifted her position on the bed a little, pulling away from Zane a little. While she didn't completely curl up into a ball, she was definitely going into some sort of defensive posture. Even though she knew she should trust this man, as she had before, something inside her didn't want to. "Drank," she finally said, hoping that an answer would make it go away. Perhaps he was sent by the Goddess to check on her, but did he need to be so close? And so loud?
He was trying to read her body language because that's all there was to read--her voice was hollow, when she even spoke, and her eyes darted aimlessly. Zane noticed the change as she shifted away from him and for a moment the motion cut him, reminding him of the way his mother always leaned ever so slightly away from his father, as though she felt Zane was somehow a threat to her or a danger from which she needed to move away. He reminded himself at the pang that Megan had been through something traumatic, which he had not caused, and the movement had not been for him. He mimicked her, leaning away, the springs under him creaking. "I'm not going to hurt you," he told her, trying to gentle his voice even more. There was only so much he could do, though, to make his lower octaves sound nonthreatening. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I believe my answer is, not well."
As much as she didn't want to, she tried to listen to the voice. He'd said wasn't going to hurt her, but the man who smelled bad and talked funny hadn't seemed like he was going to hurt her either. And then he did. Who was to say that this man wouldn't be the same way? She tried to pull back some more, to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Just the haze. A small voice in the back of her head tried to reassure her, to let her know that things would be fine, but it was quickly shouted down by the other voices in the ether. Reluctantly, she spoke again, since the large loud voice would not leave. "Hurts," she said in her faraway voice. "Down there, up here." She didn't point, however. That would have required her to give up the somewhat safe position she had taken up.
Somewhere in the fog, a thought occurred to her. Where was her dog? The one person she could always count on when everyone else had abandoned her, her companion through all of life's ups and downs. She should have already been beside her, waiting patiently for her, giving comforting licks even if Mommy was sick. "Noelani?" she asked, becoming a little more animated, though still very distant. "Where are you, girl? Mommy needs you." She turned her head a little, instinctively "looking" for her beloved dog even though she couldn't see her, had never seen her.
"Your ankle hurts?" he questioned, furrowing his brows. For "down there" it made sense, the "up here" he could figure to mean her head but it was difficult to be certain. He was reluctant to give her anything for pain without taking a look--which she was unlikely to let him do given she was curling away from him--and without knowing if someone else had already given her anything. Talking to her in this state was like trying to work out a foreign language.
"Tell me about Noelani," he requested, grabbing on to the first thing that brought more than two words out of her. A pet maybe, based on her tone? Or a child, since she'd used the word "mommy".
Megan's face finally changed a little as Zane asked about her dog, a very faint smile It was the first sign of emotion she had displayed since earlier that day. "Pretty girl. She's my eyes, my life." Her body unfolded a little as she relaxed a little. "Beautiful smile. Big brown eyes. Fluffy tail." In her mind's eye, she could almost hear her beautiful lab running towards her, feel her soft black fur, smell her puppy breath... then it was gone. Yanked away from her as if she had never been there. Her lips began to tremble and fresh tears began running down her face. "Now... gone. Don't know where. Left me... left me behind like everyone else." Her crying became louder as she allowed herself to confront the loss of her dog for the first time since everything began. "No... no..." She turned her head to the side a little, not wanting to show any weakness to the man.
She had been so vacant that even these few words of warmth about her dog--as Zane could now deduce--filled the room. He smiled lightly, half a smile at the description, though it disappeared the moment tears began spilling down her cheeks. He made no move to comfort her, both afraid to go too near her and scare her, and unsure what he could do in the first place. It wasn't as though he could fix her dog, who was likely either dead or one of the monstrosities roaming the streets. "It's hard to lose those you care about," Zane told her, sadness creeping into his voice. He looked down at his hands clasped between his knees. "How long did you have her?" Despite her tears he wanted to keep Megan talking if he could.
Megan was once again trying to pull away, but felt like she needed to stay where she was for some reason. It was very tiring for her, being pulled in both directions like this. "Four years..." she said in response, her voice becoming more distant again. "Now gone." She moved her head again and her body physically responded this time, her face screwing up in pain when she tried to turn it. "Head..." she said, trying to indicate what was hurting. "Why? Why me?" she asked the voice. Maybe it had an answer as to why such a thing had happened to her.
Zane scowled, wondering why someone hadn't gotten him sooner. Now he had no idea what had already been done for her or who to even ask. "It's not your fault, Megan," he tried to assure her. "You didn't do anything to deserve being attacked." He still didn't know the whole story, but couldn't imagine that not to be true. Even if she had hit Tony, or worse, she didn't deserve what had happened. "Some people just do bad things." He shifted on the bed, moving toward her just a fraction. "Is it your head that hurts? Inside?" he asked, talking to her almost like she was a child. "Do you want something to make it stop?"
"Don't know," she said, turning her head again even though somewhere she knew that she probably shouldn't. The extra effort of talking and focusing was really seeming to make it hurt more. "Just hurts..." She curled up a little again, not so much afraid of the man... Zane, she was vaguely aware of now... but more just because it hurt so much. "Make it stop." After a moment, she turned her head again towards Zane. "Tell them. Sorry." She didn't quite know what she was apologizing for, but felt like she needed to for something.
This was beyond frustrating for him and he couldn't fathom why anyone who had seen her state had not at least told him about it. He found her disorientation far more disconcerting than Tony's unconsciousness. "You don't need to apologize to anyone. And I can give you something to help your head." He pulled a bottle of pain killers out of his pocket and tipped two into the lid. Now, how to give them to her and would she take them? "I'm going to approach you, Megan. I won't touch you. I have medicine for your head in my hand," he informed her, unsure how well she was even understanding anything he said.
He stood from his seat and walked toward her, holding the cap of pills out in front of him. When he was only two feet away he stopped, getting the lid near her hand. "The pills are in front of your hand if you want to take them."
Almost mechanically, Megan reached out her hand and began looking for Zane's. Humming a little to calm herself, she moved slowly and tentatively at first. She was still a little scared, but knew that he meant the best for her and wanted to help her. It took a moment, but the tips of her fingers eventually brushed Zane's hand. She pulled away briefly, but then slowly reached her fingers out and found the capful of pills. She pulled them back towards herself, as if they were something precious and delicate that she had to protect. Keeping the pills toward her, she reached out again. She remembered there had been a glass near her at some point, but she couldn't find it. "Water?" she asked, almost childlike.
She reminded him of a bird, the way she approached so carefully, wary of any harm flitting her way. He stayed frozen in place, worried that even the slightest breath of air from him would have her curling into a ball and him starting completely from scratch. When she finally took the pills, he relaxed, releasing the breath he'd been holding. "Right. Water." Zane looked around the room, finally spotting a glass nearby. He retrieved it and brought it back to her, holding it where the pills had been in his hand moments before. "I have water for you in the same place as the pills," he told her, and then waited, still again. "If I get you something to eat, will you?" He also considered whether he should give her something to help her sleep, though the pills could make her drowsy.
The movements came easier to her now, more sure of herself now that she knew more what she was doing. This time, when she found Zane's hand, she didn't pull away, but rather momentarily held it there. Some of the light almost seemed to come back into her eyes for a moment and there was a slight smile. "Thank you," she said, for the moment seeming to be a more tired version of her normal self. She took the glass and pushed herself up slightly into a better position before taking the pills. She handed the glass and pill bottle cap back to Zane, then laid back down. "Not hungry," she said, feeling herself start to fade back again. "Maybe later."
He smiled lightly at the sight of her smile, though she wouldn't see the return. Her own was a welcome sight and he looked over her face, which appeared in blacks and whites and grays to him, not having paid her that much attention the day they'd met when it felt death was constantly pressing in. "You're welcome." He released the glass as she took it and then crossed his arms, watching her take the pills before retrieving the glass from her again. He set it on the nearby nightstand. "Alright, later." He would have felt better to see her eat something now but perhaps sleep would leave her more like herself when she woke. Zane didn't know who Megan's self was except to say she had managed to survive a crumbling city without being able to see and now an attack.
For a moment he hesitated whether to stay or go. Clearly his presence made her at least somewhat uncomfortable and there was nothing else he could do for her, really. Yet he didn't feel quite comfortable leaving her alone.
Megan was quickly being drawn back into her "safety zone". The smile faded a little more and she curled up onto her side. Sleep. Yes, sleep was what she needed. "I'm okay," she said in a quiet tone. "Sleep..." Her eyes closed and she felt herself once again traveling into the ether, surrounded by warmth and peace. Nothing could harm her here. Everything would be fine. She just needed to rest.
He lingered a moment longer, watching her eyes close. She seemed at least somewhat relaxed now, maybe because the drugs were kicking in. He stepped up to the bed, grabbing an edge of the comforter she was laying on and placing it to wrap over her--it didn't cover her that well but perhaps she would sleep better. Then he gathered the pill bottle and turned, leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind him.