Read Online When I See You by Katherine Owen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Owen
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have multiple bullet wounds in your right shoulder and the upper chest. Fortunately, it missed your heart and we were able to re-inflate your right lung." He stops. He just stops talking and sighs heavily before he goes on.
"We can't explain the blindness."
"I'm a spotter. With a sniper team. A Navy SEAL. I can't be blind ."
I can't control the fear in my voice any longer. It takes over my whole body and my mind. I groan and put my arm over my face. Sudden exhaustion assails me. I feel helpless and out of control. In response, pearls of sweat spread across the surface of my skin, everywhere.
The blackness swims all around me, like the murky water of Logan's Pond back home. Just thinking of my father, the pond, my mother, and home somehow lifts me up. It's just enough to take a much needed breath.
"It's probably temporary," he says.
I detect the uncertainty in his voice. He will not give me false hope. I open my eyes, discover the blackness, once again, and let out a jagged breath. I close my eyes, then open them again. There is no difference whether they are closed or not. It is all black. There is nothing. I see nothing.
A door opens somewhere near. I hear the click clack of a woman's high heels meet up with the linoleum floor. The sound comes toward me, capturing my attention.
"Dr. Smith, I thought I told you to come and get me as soon as the lieutenant was awake?" A different female voice. I hear her heavy breathing, as if she's been running, but sense she's angry.
This modicum of satisfaction at her telling off this Dr. Smith cheers me up. Tell him, sister. Let's fix this thing. Tell him now how we're going to do it.
"Right, okay. I'll leave you to it," says the voice I now designate to Dr. Smith. His angry retort sounds insincere.
I take solace at this heated exchange. A minute later, there's the sound of the door closing with a resounding bang.
"Asshole." I start to smile upon hearing her whisper this. She takes a deep breath, and the faint scent of her perfume drifts towards me. "I'm Dr. Richards. Kate Richards. Major Kate Richards, Lieutenant Wainwright," she says. The woman outranks me by one, and I try to control the grimace that automatically travels across my face at hearing her rank.
"Major Richards," I say dryly.
She kind of laughs. I hear the scraping of a chair against the floor. Her scent gets even stronger, and I presume she's brought the chair close to my bedside. Then, she firmly grips my right hand.
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
I sigh heavily and feel growing frustration and this incalculable fear at the same time. How many times am I going to have to tell them I don't remember anything?
Finally, I answer, "Carrying a lot of stuff to camp. It was dark. I remember seeing the camp's lights up ahead. It was tough—the trek back to camp. Mountains. Terrain. I think I cut myself up a bit on some of the jagged rocks as I made my way down."
I've run out of words, and I wrack my brain to try to remember more. "Where am I? How long have I been here? Why can't I see?" I tack on all these questions as the panic within me begins to travel outward.
She strokes my hand in regular rhythm; I'm caught up in counting the number of times she does this, while a weird sense of calm comes over me.
"Lieutenant, you've been in this hospital for the past nine days. You've had major surgery on your upper torso. Both your chest and shoulder were hit by gunfire. As Dr. Smith must have told you, you're lucky to be alive."
"I can't see." My retort is harsh and I no longer try to hide the anger and panic. "I need answers now!"
"You've been through a harrowing experience," she says in a soothing voice. "And, we're trying to determine what has happened to your sight. It seems to be triggered by a traumatic event. Can you tell me anything else you remember? Anything at all. Take your time. Close your eyes and think."
Time wallows. It just wallows there like the mysterious stillness of murky water where
"We can't explain the blindness."
"I'm a spotter. With a sniper team. A Navy SEAL. I can't be blind ."
I can't control the fear in my voice any longer. It takes over my whole body and my mind. I groan and put my arm over my face. Sudden exhaustion assails me. I feel helpless and out of control. In response, pearls of sweat spread across the surface of my skin, everywhere.
The blackness swims all around me, like the murky water of Logan's Pond back home. Just thinking of my father, the pond, my mother, and home somehow lifts me up. It's just enough to take a much needed breath.
"It's probably temporary," he says.
I detect the uncertainty in his voice. He will not give me false hope. I open my eyes, discover the blackness, once again, and let out a jagged breath. I close my eyes, then open them again. There is no difference whether they are closed or not. It is all black. There is nothing. I see nothing.
A door opens somewhere near. I hear the click clack of a woman's high heels meet up with the linoleum floor. The sound comes toward me, capturing my attention.
"Dr. Smith, I thought I told you to come and get me as soon as the lieutenant was awake?" A different female voice. I hear her heavy breathing, as if she's been running, but sense she's angry.
This modicum of satisfaction at her telling off this Dr. Smith cheers me up. Tell him, sister. Let's fix this thing. Tell him now how we're going to do it.
"Right, okay. I'll leave you to it," says the voice I now designate to Dr. Smith. His angry retort sounds insincere.
I take solace at this heated exchange. A minute later, there's the sound of the door closing with a resounding bang.
"Asshole." I start to smile upon hearing her whisper this. She takes a deep breath, and the faint scent of her perfume drifts towards me. "I'm Dr. Richards. Kate Richards. Major Kate Richards, Lieutenant Wainwright," she says. The woman outranks me by one, and I try to control the grimace that automatically travels across my face at hearing her rank.
"Major Richards," I say dryly.
She kind of laughs. I hear the scraping of a chair against the floor. Her scent gets even stronger, and I presume she's brought the chair close to my bedside. Then, she firmly grips my right hand.
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
I sigh heavily and feel growing frustration and this incalculable fear at the same time. How many times am I going to have to tell them I don't remember anything?
Finally, I answer, "Carrying a lot of stuff to camp. It was dark. I remember seeing the camp's lights up ahead. It was tough—the trek back to camp. Mountains. Terrain. I think I cut myself up a bit on some of the jagged rocks as I made my way down."
I've run out of words, and I wrack my brain to try to remember more. "Where am I? How long have I been here? Why can't I see?" I tack on all these questions as the panic within me begins to travel outward.
She strokes my hand in regular rhythm; I'm caught up in counting the number of times she does this, while a weird sense of calm comes over me.
"Lieutenant, you've been in this hospital for the past nine days. You've had major surgery on your upper torso. Both your chest and shoulder were hit by gunfire. As Dr. Smith must have told you, you're lucky to be alive."
"I can't see." My retort is harsh and I no longer try to hide the anger and panic. "I need answers now!"
"You've been through a harrowing experience," she says in a soothing voice. "And, we're trying to determine what has happened to your sight. It seems to be triggered by a traumatic event. Can you tell me anything else you remember? Anything at all. Take your time. Close your eyes and think."
Time wallows. It just wallows there like the mysterious stillness of murky water where
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