"DO YOU BLAME YOURSELF?" The voice echoes in Red's mind, a relentless hammering on the door of his fragile consciousness.
"What?..." Red's voice wavers, lost in the tummupt of his own thoughts.
"WELL IN THIS SITUATION, ITS QUITE COMMON FOR A PATIENT TO FEEL A KIND OF GUILT." The voice continues, a spectral presence haunting the depths of his psyche.
"What.... situation...?" Red's mind recoils, assaulted by memories crashing like waves against the shore of his sanity. The blood, the echoes of panicked voices; it's all there, vividly and merciless.
"THE ACCIDENT." The voice reminds him, a phantom finger pointing accusingly at his wounded soul. Red flinches, the weight of guilt settling upon his shoulders like a leaden shroud.
"IT'S VERY COMMON FOR CREWMATES TO "INVENT" BLAME OR CREATE A CASUALITY WHEN IN REALITY...." The therapist's words blur into a cacophony of condemnation, drowning out any hope of absolpution.
"It was completely out of your control." The therapist's reassurance falls hollow, a feeble attempt to stem the tide of self-recrimination engulfing Red's shattered spirit.