Narrative: Rachel vs. the Power Grid Who: Rachel, Hiram Berry (NPC) Where: Lima Memorial Hospital When: 2/24, afternoon What: Rachel finally sees her Daddy. She reacts strongly. Warning: Emotional instability, Rachel's(and Erin's) affinity for the dramatic, general melancholy
Rachel sat nervously in the family lounge of the Intensive Care Unit, waiting for her father to return. She was still sure that this was a bad idea, but clearly her judgement was considered to be impaired at this moment in time.
After her MRI on Tuesday before, the neurologist had concluded that physically, she was completely fine. His conclusion that her lack of memory was a severe manifestation of Post Traumatic Stress was immediately followed by her father scheduling a meeting with a woman who, she had been informed, had been her therapist for many years. To her, the woman seemed completely unqualified. Instead of focusing on the events of the Storm, she had relied heavily on who Rachel had been, and on trying to coax a response from her that matched who she used to be. Even she knew that that was the wrong approach.
Still, her point was moot, because the woman concluded that Rachel needed to be 're-oriented' to her surroundings. This included to things that might shock her, IE seeing her beloved father in such dependent state. Quack or not, Hiram had been convinced that she was right, and had proceeded to set up a visit. She wasn't looking forward to the dejected and disappointed look on the man's face when she remained entirely unmoved.
In her reverie, she had failed to notice that her dad had reappeared, and was kneeling in front of her, concerned. Pasting a reassuring smile onto her face, she squeezed his hands and stood, wordlessly indicating for him to lead the way.
She took a deep breath as she walked, trying her best to be prepared for anything. What she didn't expect was the sudden, painful tightening in her chest as she made her way to Leroy's room.
She saw him before they'd even gotten there, thanks to the glass sliding doors of the typical ICU room. The closer they drew, the more aware she was that she was not going to escape from this visit as detached as she'd originally assumed.
As they walked quietly into the room, the nurse leaned up from where she was listening to Leroy's lungs, smiling gently. Rachel barely noticed her. Instead, her eyes were attached to the man in the bed. His tall, lanky frame seemed to be too large for the narrow bed, especially given the various monitoring devices that were attached to him. His head was wrapped in a thick white gauze that was already beginning to show new spots of blood. The heart monitor beeped a quick, consistent rhythm, reminding everyone of where it was they were (as if the stringent, clinical smell would let them forget). The most striking, upsetting thing about Leroy's entire condition, though, was the long hose stretching from a large machine to the right of them, to a tube that made its way down into his throat. It was clear that the machine's soft, regular puffs - which were consistent with the rising and falling of Leroy's chest - were responsible for the other man's breathing. Rachel's on breath stuttered, her eyes burning.
Catching the girl's distraught stare, the nurse spoke up softly. "I know that the vent looks bad, sweetie, but the doctor thinks we may be able to remove it soon. Tests indicate that your dad is breathing on his own, now."
Rachel glanced at the woman blankly, barely registering her words above the buzzing in her own ears. The swirling of emotions in her were hard to pin down, but above all, she felt such an overwhelming sense of grief that she could't quite figure out how how to deal with it. When the first sob tore threw her, her Dad was right there, pulling her to him tightly, humming lightly as she cried.
She felt unhinged. This blankness, this grief with no context, with no knowledge of how to fight it or tools with which to manage it, made her feel like the entire world was collapsing; like she couldn't remember to breathe. She felt crippled. She felt-
Her wet eyes widened. The electricity that began to permeate the air was palpable, and when she began to feel the familiar tingling, she pulled away from her father abruptly. She couldn't do this to him, too.
Hiram looked at her worriedly, clearly unsure whether to believe that she was finally reacting appropriately to their situation, or distraught that she was clearly so upset. "Rachel-"
"Dad, I can't-" she said, backing up against the wall. When the lights began to flicker, alarming the nurses, she stood up straight again, tears increasing exponentially. "I can't! I have to... I'm going to ruin it! I-I need to go."
She darted from the room like a shot, ignoring the cries from her father and the nurses for her to return. She couldn't stay. It was building; she could feel it.
It was a strange sort of situation she found herself in. Although Rachel felt the full emotional impact of her situation, she had no memories to back up her distress. It wasn't the same as finding out someone you love has died, or has been in a terrible accident - in that situation, it's the memories that simultaneously worsen the pain, and remind you that there were good times. They act as a balance.
Rachel had no balance. She had the feelings, but no memories. The emotions combined with her confusion only continued to escalate, causing her distress to formulate into something much, much worse. Essentially, she was spiraling out of control because of her emotions, and her mind - conscious and subconscious - had no idea why.
Making her way down the stairs to the first floor, Rachel winced as a man in dark blue scrubs shot back, groaning in pain after touching the metal hand rail in an electrically-charged stairwell. She had to get out, or it would be worse. Thankfully, the stairwell let out right near the emergency room, and Rachel was able head out the doors and straight into the night air.
By the time she made it into the ambulance bay, the energy within her was burning to be released. Mind clouded, Rachel paced, trying to grasp something besides the pain - both physical and emotional - that was ripping through her.
Out of the corner of her eye, standing tall on the sidewalk, she spotted a large metal telephone pole jutting from the ground. She could remember Dave's warning even as she headed toward it. She just wanted it to stop. Metal was a conductor, right? She just needed to let it all go. She just needed to pain to stop.
With only the thought of relief guiding her, Rachel headed towards the pole, barely hesitating before placing her hands onto it.
Immediately, the pain increased exponentially, causing her to release an agonized scream. Trapped in her pain-filled haze, she didn't notice the paramedic, fresh from a call, run towards her, stopping just short of touching her and resigning himself to the same fate. She didn't notice the lights all around her flicker and die, or the hospital's back up generator pick up just in time to save its dependent occupants, including her father. She didn't notice much of anything as she finally let go of the pole, crumpling to the ground in unconsciousness.