Beyond Repair

Chapter 15 - Clara

I had convinced them to let me stay in the booth while Max had his MRI. It was good experience for me to see that sort of injury up close. I always hoped if I had a clearer idea of what was causing his issues, I would be able to help him more.

I was focusing on the images coming up on the monitor when he started to move. The technician reached for the microphone. “Sir, you need to lie still.” His arms were all over the place.

“Something isn’t right.” She jumped up from her seat and I followed her as she entered the room.

“Terri, nooo.” He was screaming. If he wasn’t calling out for Terri then he was outright screaming in terror. Of course, I knew who he was shouting for, it was his girlfriend. You didn’t become a fan and not know who the major WAG’s were.

It was clear from the house that he wasn’t over the loss of her. The whole place was like she had never left. One of the things Dickie had suggested to me was that he needed counselling, but had point blank refused every time Dickie brought it up. Seeing him in that state just confirmed Dickie was right.

The technician had started to get Max out, but he was still crying out. He sounded like a wounded animal. As soon as his hand was visible, I went to him and held it. It was difficult because he was still moving so much. “Max, it's okay. You’re safe.” His eyes were closed and his head was thrashing around. I had no idea he struggled so much. I just wished he had said something beforehand.

I stroked at his head and just hoped it would be enough. “Max, it’s not real.” I felt beyond useless as he laid there thrashing around. His brow dripped with sweat. “What do we do?”

“This is a bit beyond me. I’ve pressed the button for assistance, someone should be here any second…” Just then the door opened and we both turned to see several bodies file through the door at speed. I realised that they must have assumed it was a matter of life and death. Not that I was convinced it wasn’t. The way his face had drained of all colour made me concerned for his physical safety not just the mental toll he was obviously dealing with.

Instinctively I stepped back to let them get to Max, but it felt painful having to release him from my touch. As though he would know I was releasing him to a hoard of strangers. I knew it was ridiculous. There was no way he even had a clue I was there, let alone knowing if I was touching him or not. I kept backing up until my back was against the wall.

The staff were obviously as concerned as I was. There were different hands all over him. One was clearly checking his pulse, but I had no idea what the others were doing to him. I watched as a nurse reached into a metal trolley and pulled out a syringe. I watched as she sunk it into his skin. Somehow, I had expected something to happen instantly but it didn’t.

It seemed to take a lifetime for him to slowly stop thrashing, but in reality couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. No one had even taken in my presence in the room until that moment when he stilled. The technician who had been with me, nodded towards me as she spoke to the nurse who had injected him. Max was transferred to a waiting bed and whisked from the room.

I moved to follow him, but the nurse caught my arm. “Don’t worry I will take you to him once they have him settled him in a room. We have given him some sedatives so he will be asleep for a while.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. When he is feeling up to it we can work out what triggered the attack, but it is to be expected with the severity of his PTSD.” I wanted to query what she was talking about, but if I let on that I wasn’t aware they wouldn’t be likely to tell me anything else. The important thing was to know what was going on. The rest of my questions could wait until he was better.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t considered he could have PTSD. It had been a major accident and all the consequences of it were likely to weigh heavily on him. Somehow, I had considered Max to be strong enough to handle everything that was thrown at him. It was the most naive of things to think. Why should he cope better than anyone else in the world? I had put him on a pedestal and it was an impossible standard for him to maintain.

The guilt seemed to swamp me and pull me into a darkness. The only thing that existed to me in that moment was every comment I had made to Max about his attitude. They swirled around me like neon signs of my own judgmental preconceptions.

Now I've met you, I just think you're an ass.

You're just not the person I thought you were.

You have turned into a pity party with a side of miserable scrooge-like behaviour.

You still have so much going for you, but you are too short-sighted to see it.

The nurse showed me to the room they had settled Max in as promised. I just stood there staring at him through the tiny little window in the door. The bed seemed to be huge compared to him lying there lifeless. Everything seemed a little darker without his surly attitude and even more so without the carefree smile from the night before.

I had thought he was feeling sorry for himself, but it turned out he was putting on a brave face the whole time. It made me wonder if anyone other than medical staff even knew what he had been going through. I may have accused him of being weak willed, but it turned out that in fact it was me who was weak. The single tear rolled down my cheek as I fought with my own sensitivity. Hating myself for having the nerve to cry.

My eyes burning as I tried to stop more tears from forming. Blinking furiously. Then I did the most horrid thing I could do, I walked away.