ARES
"From what you described, it fits mild PTSD."
I eyed Catherine on the bed, her right hand in a cast, her left hand had a plaster from the fresh wound, and a few cuts on her face.
"The accident must have been too much for her, but she's gonna be fine. I'll examine her better when she wakes. Mr. King?"
It seemed more than that to me.
The confusion in her eyes, the pain, and the way she cried her heart out while murmuring... Mom. Dad.
She was triggered by something else.
"Mr. King?"
The doctor's voice snapped me out of it, and I veered my gaze to him. He stiffened, leveling his eyes as if maintaining eye contact was too much for him.
"S-She's under a mild sedative. That should help her get a better rest."
He left the room, and I shifted my gaze back to Catherine, my hands resting on the footboard.
