PTSD

PAST

Sunlight filtered through the blinds of their hotel room, casting a warm glow on the bright-eyed girl with lustrous dark brown hair. She stretched and rose from her bed, her feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath them. With a sleepy smile, she made her way over to a small wooden table by the window. On the table sat a cardboard box filled with an array of crayons and a purple sketchbook, waiting to be used.

The girl carefully spread her colorful tools on the round surface, arranging them neatly. She opened her sketchbook and began to draw, her hand moving fluidly across the page as if guided by an unseen force. At first, she sketched a peaceful beach scene, complete with crashing waves and seagulls soaring above. Then, she moved on to a vibrant forest with tall trees and colorful flowers blooming at their base. As inspiration continued to flow, she kept drawing and coloring, lost in her own imaginative world.

After some time had passed, she heard her mother's soft voice whispering from the slightly open doorway. "Good morning, sweetheart." The little girl turned around, revealing a gap where one of her baby teeth had recently fallen out.

"Hi, Mommy!" she exclaimed, unaware that her voice was quite loud in the room's stillness.

"Did you sleep well?" Her mother asked, peeking into the room.

The little girl nodded enthusiastically before returning to her drawing.

"That's good," her mother replied softly. "I'm going to shower before Daddy wakes up."

The little girl continued doodling in her sketchbook. "Okay, Mama. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart." Her mother's footsteps retreated down the hallway as she left to shower.

Now, alone with her thoughts and creativity once again, the little girl focused intently on her drawings. The spacious yet cozy hotel suite with its two bedrooms was the perfect place for her family to stay. She heard her father's sleepy voice calling for her mother from their bedroom.

"Becks?"

But there was no response. Rose could hear his footsteps on the carpet and their bed creaking as he got up. Moments later, he appeared in the doorway of her room.

"Morning, Rose." Her father yawned. "Is your mom in here?"

She shook her head, engrossed in her artwork. "She went to take a shower."

Craig let out another yawn. "Okay, love."

Rose continued drawing, barely registering as her father called out for her mother again.

"Becks? Are you there?"

There was still no answer. "Are you okay?" Rose heard the shower running, indicating that her mother was most likely inside.

A loud thud echoed through the hallway, followed by a cry of anguish and despair.

BOOM!

The first sound was the loud crash of her father's boot against the bathroom door.

"NO!" The second sound was a gut-wrenching, panic-filled sob.

Startled, Rose dropped her crayons and ran towards the commotion, finding her father cradling her mother. The shock was etched across his face as he looked at Rebecca pleadingly.

The white-tiled floor was now coated in a thick red liquid. The fluid pooled around her mother's head as terrified breaths came in short, quick rasps.

Rose stood there frozen, watching helplessly as life slowly slipped away from her beloved mother. Whereas innocence is lost bit by bit during childhood, Rose lost hers just as it began.

PRESENT

Rose stood outside the hospital, her body tense against the biting cold wind. The once-bright building, a symbol of hope and healing, now only served as a painful reminder of her loss. The scent of antiseptic and the sounds of beeping machines flooded her senses, bringing back overwhelming memories. She could almost hear the frantic footsteps of doctors and nurses rushing down the halls, trying to save her husband's life.

Her heart raced in her chest, and she struggled to move forward. Her hands and legs struggled to break the paralysis of her memories, trapping her where she stood. The looming doors taunted her, holding the one person who had been by her side through it all: David, her dear friend who had been attacked and left traumatized while she remained outside.

It had been over a year since her husband's passing, yet the pain was still raw. The trauma from that day left deep scars she didn't even realize were there. The memories of his final moments, the sound of machines indicating he’d flatlined, and the feeling of helplessness all came flooding back as she stood there facing the hospital, realizing she hadn't stepped foot in one since that tragic day.

Tears streamed down her face as Rose struggled to keep her composure. But then, a stranger appeared before her. An older woman with kind eyes looked at her with concern. "Are you okay, dear?" she asked gently. "You look like you could use someone to talk to." Rose could only nod, unable to find her voice.

"Thank you," she whispered faintly as the stranger offered an arm to guide her to a nearby bench, where they silently sat together.

The stranger's presence brought some comfort to Rose's overwhelmed mind. She didn't know this woman, but her kindness was like a soothing balm on her frayed nerves. They sat quietly, their breaths visible in the cold air, temporarily escaping Rose's inner turmoil.

After some time, the woman spoke again in a hushed tone. "Sometimes talking about it can help. When you're ready, dear." Her words were gentle and understanding, offering a safe space for Rose to open up.

Rose glanced at her, tears glistening in her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts before slowly opening her mouth. But the words caught in her throat. How could she share her darkest memories with a stranger? She stood up, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she walked away with a heavy heart from the hospital, feeling suffocated by the walls closing in on her. She wasn't strong enough to face it yet.

PAST

The sterile scent of the hospital room lingered, a harsh contrast to the warm rays of the morning sun peeking through the blinds. Rose sat silently by Brian’s bedside, her heart aching at the sight of her husband covered in bandages and bruises from the horrific car accident. His once lively eyes were closed, his face drained of color and blending in with the white sheets covering him. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, reminding Rose that he was still fighting for his life.

The nurse had urged her to stay by Brian’s side, filling her with fear and dread. As she thought about her daughter recovering on another floor, she prayed that the nurse's concerns would prove to be unfounded.

Gently, Rose traced the outline of Brian’s hand, the only part of him that wasn't injured. It felt cold against her touch, starkly contrasting the warmth it usually radiated. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back. She needed to be strong for both Brian and herself.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor began to escalate, growing louder and faster. Panic engulfed Rose as she watched Brian’s chest seize up. His face contorted in pain as his breathing grew more ragged. "Brian?" She reached out and grasped his beautiful, pristine hand tightly. "Brian!"

A nurse rushed into the room, her eyes wide with alarm. "Code Blue!" she alerted through her walkie-talkie, and soon after, doctors and nurses poured into the room with swift and precise movements. Rose was swiftly pushed out of the room as they worked to save her husband’s life.

Frozen against the wall in the hallway, Rose's heart pounded as she watched through the small window on the door. The icy cold grip of helplessness, the like of which she felt while watching her mother’s life soak into the bathroom floor, was back again, and now, it was taking her husband from her.

Time seemed to drag on as she waited, her eyes never leaving the room. The silence in the hallway was deafening.

Eventually, the commotion inside the room began to diminish. Doctors and nurses stepped away from the bed with somber expressions and slumped shoulders. The heart monitor was hauntingly still, its green line flat and unwavering.

"No," Rose whispered, her voice barely audible above the heavy silence that enveloped her. She placed a hand over her mouth, shock and disbelief etched into every feature of her face.

She vaguely registered a doctor approaching her; his words muted as she looked past him and to her husband.

Rose couldn't hear the doctor. All she could hear was the overwhelming silence that echoed through the hallway, louder than any words could ever be. Her world had crumbled once again, leaving her alone and broken-hearted.

PRESENT

The hotel suite in Providence was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand. Rose sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, her thoughts keeping her awake as she studied the peaceful face of her child. Looking at her brought forth memories, causing a sharp pain to surge through Rose's heart. Her daughter was the one thing that kept her going, a constant reminder of the love she and Brian shared.

But earlier in the evening, Rose's mind focused on revenge for Max's actions toward David. Rose felt powerless and consumed by anger — emotions she hadn't felt since Brian's tragic accident. Her heart ached for David, a man who had been there for her during her darkest moments but now lay helpless himself.

Hitting Max over the head with a heavy lead pipe brought a strange sense of satisfaction. Tying him up and handing him over to Ivan and Alexei was surprisingly enjoyable. But as the adrenaline wore off, Rose couldn't ignore what awaited her at ReVival 45 - pain, suffering, and a dance with the devil himself. Despite the apprehension lingering on her skin and butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she knew this was necessary to feel alive.

A buzzing sound on the nightstand snapped Rose out of her thoughts. She walked across the room to answer her father's call.

"Hey, Dad," she said breathlessly as she left Rose's room and collapsed onto a plush black leather couch in the living room.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," her father replied, sarcasm seeping through. "If you have more people to attack on air or more bodies to drop at Ivan Stanislav's doorstep, I can call back later."

Rose let out a sigh. "Thanks for the offer, Dad. Actually, I have about twenty minutes until my next 'lead pipe appointment.'"

Her father chuckled on the other end of the line. "I’m glad you still have time for your old man."

"Always," she replied, a warmth filling her. "So, where do you want to start? With Max or with Ivan?"

There was a brief pause before her father spoke again, his voice filled with concern. "I understand why you went after Max. He came after David, and you were well within your rights to seek revenge. But calling out Ivan like that -"

"I warned him to keep his house in order. First Pleasant and now Kael," Rose interrupted her tone hardening.

"I get it," he said, cutting her off. "But how many enemies do you want to make in PRIME? Don't you think maybe you should slow down?"

Rose bit her bottom lip in contemplation. "Maybe."

"Just something to consider. You're making enemies with Tom, Ivan, Max, and now RIA."

"Well, as I've gotten older, I find it harder to make friends," she admitted bitterly.

Another long pause from the other end of the line. "Maybe try not fighting with everyone. Look at me - I had a few friends."

"Jack Harmen? I don't know if I would call him a friend."

"He had my back, and I had his."

The mere mention of his name sent shivers down her spine. He was certifiably insane, unpredictable, and dangerous. You never knew what he was going to do next.

"That's true," her father chuckled, a hint of worry in his voice. "How is David doing?"

Rose hesitated before answering, her heart clenching at the thought of him. "He's hanging in there. Shawn is with him."

"How are the doctors treating him?"

"The prognosis isn't great," she replied, her voice heavy with sadness. "The fracture in his skull has healed a bit while the swelling has reduced. He's still in the medically induced coma though."

"Is there any progress in his recovery?"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. She had lost two of the most influential people in her life, nearly lost the third last year, and now David. She was starting to believe she was cursed.

When the silence stretched on longer than necessary, her father spoke up again. "You should go visit him at the hospital. It will comfort him knowing you're by his side."

"He knows I'm always there for him, Dad." But even as she said it, she knew it wasn't enough.

"Rose--" but she cut him off, unable to bear the thought of stepping foot inside another hospital.

"I can't do it, Dad. I can't face another sterile room or the smell of antiseptic that clings to everything." Her voice trembled with emotion.

Craig understood her pain all too well. “You should make sure he knows you’re there for him.

"I haven't been sleeping well," she confessed, changing the subject. "I've been having some very vivid dreams."

"Really?" he questioned softly.

"It feels like--"

"Your mother used to have dreams like that, too," he interrupted gently. "I just thought it was because she was such a creative person. Maybe you two have more in common than we ever realized."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, tell me about your dream, and I'll tell you about hers." Rose settled onto the couch, propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, grateful for her father's comforting presence.

"So, there were two," she began, recounting the dreams to him, feeling a sense of connection with her late mother through these shared experiences.

TODAY.

As the sun broke on a new day, Rose sat in her hotel room. Sleep eluded her, and she watched as the horizon glowed. In the palm of her hand was her phone. She knew who she needed to call, and yet, apprehension made it more difficult with each passing second. Rose pushed through that, tapping a few buttons on her cell phone before throwing it on the table before her. The trill of a call rang through the air.

“Hey,” Shawn’s voice came through clearly.

“Hey, put me on speaker. Let me talk to him.”

At first, there was silence until she heard the beating of a heart monitor in the background.

“David… hey,” Rose spoke softly, hoping her words registered with David. The familiar sounds of medical equipment served as a painful reminder, but she refused to let her thoughts wander to the past.

"I don’t know if you can hear me or if this is doing any good. I know I should be there with you in person.," she snarled. "I tried the first night, but my body wouldn’t let me. It was too painful." Her tone turned dark and menacing. “Lorelai is doing good. She’s asking about you, checking in on you when she can. She misses you, and I see the pain in her eyes. Adeline wanted me to tell you that you owe her three bedtime stories when you’re all better. Everyone is thinking about you, missing you.”

"This is all… a nightmare. A month you’ve been there and it’s impacting all of us in the worst ways possible. Let’s see, what else did you miss? Jared became Universal Champion. Yay. Winters was crucified. That was a sight to see. Jiles is still a dipshit, big surprise. Jason Snow returned; I’m sure you’ll feel some way about that."

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"Max, he made a grave mistake targeting you. Pleasant, he made an even worse mistake enlisting him and coming after you. So I’m going to make you a promise, which I’ve already started my bit on, so you need to fulfill your end. I’ll take care of Max if you take care of Pleasant. I’ve already started with smacking Kael in the back of the head with a lead pipe, so no take backs. Plus, I’ve got a match with him at 45."

Another pause.

"I know, I know. Like I said, this past month has impacted us all horribly. I’m sure if you’d been around, I wouldn’t have gone down this path, but at the same time, if Max hadn’t crossed the line, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

She took another deep breath before continuing.

"I know what everyone is saying behind my back. They think I’m crazy for going after Max. No one does that, not willingly. They all think he’s going to out-wrestle me, out-crazy me, out-violence me. And you know what? They’re right. We can’t begin to comprehend the madman's mind, but we know he’s still some part of the old Max Kael at the core of it all. A Falls Count Anywhere match, I might have just signed my death certificate. He knows no bounds or limits and will do everything he can to destroy me."

There was a tense silence on the other end of the phone.

"And that is something I will live with because where he doesn’t have me beat is having skin in this game, a purpose to send us both to hell and back if I have to. He came after my family and did it because Pleasant wanted him to. This is personal for me, though. After hitting him with the lead pipe in Rhode Island, I may have made it personal for him, too. No one in PRIME has gone after him like that before, and he’s on notice. Good. If I’m going to be the crazy one jumping off the bridge, I might as well make it worthwhile."

"Max may have hurt you, but I refuse to let him think he can walk around and do whatever he wants. When I face him, he will experience agony. The pain he brought against you will pale in comparison to what awaits him in Boston. He took something from me, and I intend to extract from him something far greater. He is merely a pawn in this game of revenge, standing in for those who have wronged me before, and he doesn’t truly comprehend it.”

Pause.

“Max doesn’t get to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t get to hijack the shows, attack whomever he feels like, and think he’ll just get away with it. Max needs consequences, as all children do. He needs to know his boundaries, and he’s long stepped over them. I’m the consequence of his actions, and win or lose; I know it will change him. I will break him if I have to.”

Pause.

“I would be lying if I said this was only about Max. The truth is, he represents something, somebody, that has haunted me for years now. I look at Max, and all I can see is Cecilworth Farthington, best friend and buddy. Farthington was the catalyst for everything — financing Atken, who left my father for dead in a ditch two years ago. Farthington damages everything he comes in contact with — why would Max be any different?"

Pause.

"But don't think this is all just for revenge. This is also for you, David. I need you to know I will make this right, to do right by you. If you were in my position, I know you would do everything in your power to right the wrong. We need you back with us, fighting by our side. Come back to us when you're ready because we need you now more than ever. We love you."

Rose took a deep breath in.

“Next time I talk to you, I may not have been victorious by standard measures, but Max Kael will never cross us again -- he will serve as a warning for what’s to come. The gloves have come off. I don’t care if this Max is months old or years old. He crossed a line he never should’ve laid eyes upon.”

Rose hung up the phone, burying her head in her hands. The feel of moisture from her eyes once more soiled her palms, tears of not only loss and pain but also rage. Of retribution. Tears that wrought pain and suffering upon those who caused them. She was no longer a little girl or the shocked wife from a year ago but a warrior forged from pain.

And elsewhere, as the line went dead, Shawn turned to leave David to rest. Yet, before he could take another step, a firm grip around his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

FIN.