Page 69 of Echoes of Obsession
Ifeel a strange lightness, a peaceful calm enveloping me. The pain, the fear, the horror; all of it is gone. I’m floating in a serene place, bathed in a warm, gentle light. There’s no struggle, no terror, just an overwhelming sense of peace.
Is this what it feels like to be free? To be safe?
I see visions of happy times. Ghost’s smile, my daughter’s laughter, the moments of joy and love I’ve cherished. It’s as if they’re all here with me, comforting me, surrounding me with warmth and love. I want to stay here, in this beautiful, painless place.
But then, like a cruel twist of fate, I feel a jolt pulling me away from my haven. The serenity shatters, replaced by a torrent of pain and darkness.
Voices. Urgent, frantic voices.
“Clear!”
Another jolt, this one even stronger. I can feel my body convulsing, fighting to come back to life.
The light fades, replaced by blinding hospital lights and the sterile smell of antiseptics. The peace I felt is gone, replaced by agony and the weight of my memories crashing down on me. The torment, the helplessness, the brutal reality of what I endured, all of it floods back, overwhelming my senses.
I hear Ghost’s voice, desperate and broken. “Come back to me, Snow. Please, baby, come back.”
I want to respond, to reach out and tell him I’m here, but my body won’t obey. Everything hurts. My head throbs, my muscles scream in protest, and my heart aches with the weight of my ordeal.
“She’s coming back!” a doctor shouts.
I feel another surge of pain, a burning in my chest as my heart starts to beat again, slowly, painfully. I draw in a ragged breath, every inhalation a struggle.
The voices around me blur together. Ghost’s the only one I can focus on. I feel his hand on mine, his touch grounding me, pulling me back from the brink.
I open my eyes, the harsh lights stabbing at them, and see Ghost’s face etched with worry and relief. Tears stream down his cheeks as he leans in close, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos.
“Snow, you’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
I try to nod, to reassure him, but all I can manage is a faint squeeze of his hand. The pain is overwhelming, but I cling to his presence, drawing strength from him.
The doctors continue their work, their movements a blur around me. I focus on Ghost, on the love and determination in his eyes.
“Ghost,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I... love... you.”
His grip tightens on my hand, his tears falling onto my skin. “I love you too, Snow. Always.”
As I drift further into the darkness, I hold onto those words, letting them anchor me to this world. I don’t feel fear, only a deep, profound weariness. My eyes close, but I keep my mind focused on Ghost’s face. His love and determination are the last things I see before the darkness overtakes me.
This time, I don’t die. I just sleep, surrendering to the need for rest, knowing that Ghost is there, holding me, keeping me safe.And as the darkness fully envelopes me, I find a small measure of peace, comforted by the promise of waking up in his arms.
***
Several days have passed since that horrible night. The hospital room has become a familiar, if unwelcome, place. The doctors have been kind, and the nurses are attentive, but I long for the comfort of home. The sterile smell and beeping machines are a constant reminder of my fragility.
This morning, the doctor finally gave me the news I’ve been waiting for. “You’re ready to go home, Ms. Clarke. Your body is healing well, and your vitals are stable. Just make sure to take it easy and keep up with your medications.”
I thank him, relief washing over me. But when I look at Ghost, standing by the window with his arms crossed and worry etched into his features, I know the battle isn’t over yet.
As the doctor leaves, I turn to Ghost. “Did you hear that? I can go home.”
Ghost’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Snow. You’ve been through hell. What if you have another seizure? Your body isn’t strong enough to deal with it yet.”
“I know you’re worried,” I say gently, reaching for his hand. “But I need to go home. I miss my daughter, my dog, and my friends. I miss the life that we had just started to discover.”
Ghost’s eyes soften, but his expression remains firm. “I can’t lose you again, Snow. What if something happens and I’m not there?”
“With your help or without it, I will be leaving,” I say, my voice steady. “I need to be home, Ghost. For my daughter and formyself. I need to start healing, really healing, and I can’t do that here.”