Chapter 15
Cadet Nida Harper
She hadn't expected to see Carson hovering outside of her door. She'd been glad for his company, though.
He'd walked with her, in thankful silence, all the way to the med bay.
Though he'd asked what was going on, he hadn't pushed when she'd failed to reply.
Now she sat on the edge of the hospital bed, wondering just how much to tell the doctor by her side.
"I'm sure your??dreams are simply a result of stress," the woman tried.
Nida shook her head. "You don't get it. I don't feel right. Something is wrong."
The doctor tried for a smile, but it was clear she was sick of Nida's stories.
Because that's what people thought they were. Stories.
The doctors thought she was making this up. That she was overacting. That she was a hypochondriac.
But she wasn't.
Something was happening to her.
"You've been seriously injured recently, multiple times," the woman pointed out slowly and clearly, "you need rest."
Nida shook her head.
Rest would not help her.
She had to find out what was happening.
Ever since her return from Remus 12, something had been building within her.
The flashes of blue, the dreams, the accidents. They were all connected. But when she'd shared that theory with the doctor, the woman had dismissed it out of hand.
Because it didn't make sense.
Nothing had happened to Nida on Remus 12, and none of the numerous tests done on her revealed anything out of the ordinary.
She was making it up.
She was stressed.
"You just need rest," the doctor spoke through a heavy, rattling sigh. "Everything will be fine once you give yourself time to calm down."
Nida didn't reply.
She simply sat there.
She had convinced herself to come to the med bay because it had seemed like the right thing to do. Sitting there and suffering in silence had been stupid. And while Nida was a lot of things, she wasn't dumb.
But the doctors couldn't help, because to them, nothing was wrong.
"Just go home," the woman tried to offer a reassuring smile. "Everything will be okay tomorrow."
"Yeah," Nida managed, realizing she couldn't just sit here like a surly teenager.
"I can give you something for the dreams. It'll stop you from experiencing them," the doctor said as she walked up to Nida and administered something to her neck with a syringe gun.
Nida felt the injection, but almost immediately the sensation became indistinct as a flood of tingles surged toward it. It was almost as if they were nullifying the effects of the syringe?.
Nida didn't say anything to the doctor. Instead, she stood up, thanked her, and walked out.
She strode from the med bay, her mind a mess.
She had no idea what to do.
Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw were flashes of her latest dream.
If you could call it a dream.
The way she'd walked through the Academy halls, killing people?.
She buckled forward as she recalled the screams and blood. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she kept stumbling forward, though, determined to get back home.
She would try to sleep, and hopefully the medication the doctor had administered would stop the dreams.
?.
Except Nida doubted it would. She knew instinctively that nothing could stop them. They would simply become worse with every passing day.
She went to go home, but she stopped. As she walked across the lawns between the Academy buildings, she realized she couldn't go back to her stuffy room.
She just couldn't do it.
The thought of sitting down on her bed felt like opening up to the shadows.
?.
The shadows that apparently did not exist.
Everyone was telling her she was just stressed, that the dreams were nothing more than figments of a fatigued mind.
And maybe they were right.
Maybe she just had to distract herself and wait for it to pass.
Strolling across the grounds, she paused and looked up at the accommodation buildings before her.
Then she turned and cast her gaze toward the city. It sat there glittering, promising distraction with every twinkling light.
Nida paused, stared down at her left hand, then pushed forward.
Not toward her apartment, but away from the Academy compound and into the rest of the city.
She could ignore her headache - it wasn't that strong anymore. The doctor at least had fixed that.
And if she really tried hard, she could ignore that cold, stone-like feeling creeping up from her left hand.
Because it was just her imagination.
?.
It was just her imagination.