Make You Feel My Love

Hospitals and Hate

Abigail sits in the olive green chair in the corner of her hospital room, facing the window that looks out upon her home of California. She's been watching planes take off from the naval base.

     Her white hospital blanket covers her from the waist down so that she can't see what she did to herself. Beside her is a table covered in many different waivers from therapists that specialize in military veterans.

       The term "veteran" means a person who actively served in the military and was discharged.  Her career became past tense. She was a naval aviator. She was the best of the best. Now she's just...existing. Not living. She has no importance. She ruined her own career.

     It had been five days since she crashed. Five days of blaming herself, hating herself. Five days of people bringing in flowers and fruit baskets. Five days of her mother coming in and coddling her.

    Abigail felt suffocated and misunderstood. Nobody who came and visited her could even begin to imagine what she was currently feeling.

      But what Abigail did not understand was that she was doing this to herself. Five days and not a single word has left her mouth. She has not cried in five days, despite the excruciating pain she's been in. No sounds, no tears, no physical actions.

    Abigail was just existing.
     
     The door opens behind her, but Abigail doesn't even care to acknowledge anyone who comes through that door anymore. She was trapped, looking out this window as everyone outside lives life.

      "The nurse told me to bring this to you." Rooster says quietly, carrying a tray of food. He goes to place it on the bed table, but her meal from last night still sits there untouched. So instead he places it on the counter beside the sink, marching himself over to the ugly green chair, crouching down at her side. She had been entirely too stubborn and careless, he had enough. "Abigail Kazansky, I know none of this is easy for you, but you're hurting a lot of people. Your mom has been standing outside for the past ten minutes, debating whether or not to even try with you today. So do something. Say something." He says sternly, moving his head into her line of sight. She doesn't reply. "Abigail."

     Abigail's eyes are dead, her expression blank. She just taps on the armrest of her chair, staring out the window. Rooster's nostrils flare. "Fine. Since you're set on slowly killing yourself, I'm going to give this back to Hangman." He pulls the ring off of her finger, but gets no reaction. He sighs and slides it back on, knowing that it was probably a little too far to take away a promise the two had made to each other.

       Rooster shakes his head in disbelief, getting up and walking out of the room. He doesn't even care to close the door. He was trying everything he possibly could to piss her off. But he's reached the end, not a single success in getting her to talk.

     Abigail goes back to her tapping on the seat, watching an F-18 take off into the sky.

-

       On day eight, the doctors were talking about sending her to psych. They had done every possible thing they could to help her heal, but it was pretty evident that Abigail's problem now was psychological.

     Hangman was sitting in Abigail's hospital room with her all day, updating her about everything going on at work and at the Hard Deck. But he was extremely worried for her. "How about we go for a walk? The therapy dogs are in the lobby, we could go pet them." He offers, just trying to get her out of her room for once.

    She shook her head. For the first time in eight days, Abigail actually answered a question. Of course, not verbally, but she actually acknowledged something. It was progress. Hangman smiled, even though she declined an offer that she normally would not say no to. He had heard from Rooster that she loved dogs. "Okay. What about we go down to the cafeteria? They have chicken tenders today."