Final Truth

Chapter 67: The Unfixable

Cassia's point of view:

Doctors have a lot of firsts in their careers: first job, first patient, first surgery, and first loss, if only to name a few. At this point in my life, I've experienced all of those while continuing to throw myself against what reality so loves putting me through.

And today is my first time performing surgery out of the comfort of my own hospital.

Peter has been utterly motionless as Susan soothes him with memories while I try to repair all the horrors that have been thrust upon him. Over the past hour, I've managed to undo most traces of his physical abuse, give him the necessary blood transfusions after Susan stabbed him, and help his body regulate itself more naturally after being malnourished for so long. The blood transfusions have managed to purify a great deal of his blood of the wretched chemicals they used to warp his mind, and with time, even all the traces of the malnourishment will vanish.

But it's not enough.

Whatever they used to poison his mind is a concoction I'm not familiar with, and it was used on him long before more recent times. Some of it was purified with the blood, and even more I was able to siphon from his system with a tube. However, the damage has been done: even with most of the chemicals gone, faint traces of it still linger in his body and likely will for the rest of his life, the reconditioning running so deep that the wreckage of most of his memories cannot be undone. In the absence of the majority of the despicable substance, we may be able to get glimpses of his true self, and he might even be able to recall an event or two that maybe, maybe, wasn't tarnished. But those odds aren't ones I'm willing to bet on.

For all intents and purposes, Peter is gone. All that's left is a body that houses a creature I don't know anymore.

I look at Susan, and she looks back at me, our eyes conveying the message that neither one of us want to accept: there's nothing more that can be done.

But we must accept it. We must take this as we have taken everything else that has happened, must find a way to live with it.

Wordlessly, she drops her hands from his head to cease the calming memories, and I remove his IV from his arm.

He doesn't look so much like a monster now; his face is calm, peaceful, and his breathing is steady and slow. A substantial amount of vitality has returned to his countenance, and as long as you don't look too hard, he might very well be who he once was. Just asleep.

Without really thinking, I lean my body over his and embrace him, wanting some sort of reconnection with my friend despite knowing he'll never be able to return the favor once he wakes up.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper in his ear, voice saturated in guilt at the fact that I couldn't help him.

You always try to prepare yourself for the worst, for the unfixable, for the most horrific obstacle that you could encounter so that you might be able to handle it better. However, no matter how much you prepare, you're never ready when it happens, never. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him.

But I don't have a choice.

And so I let him go, release him from my arms and back away to join Susan against the far end of the wall, unable to watch when he wakes up.

"So that's it then?" She asks, defeated.

"That's it."

Susan puts her hand on my shoulder and nudges me to gaze down at her. Her eyes are glassy in the corners from the tears she's trying not to spill, but she gives me a small smile all the same.

"Don't feel bad," she whispers. "If you couldn't help him, no one could."

But I should've helped him. I should've been able to fix this.

"He didn't deserve it," I tell her, tearing my eyes away from Peter so that I won't have to see his hatred once he wakes again.

"Maybe not, but we've done everything. Best not to dwell on what we can't repair," Susan mutters, voiced laced with a kind of sadness that brings back memories of Kyle's ashen face.

"We should go to the others. I'm quite worried for them," she says suddenly, bringing me out of my own remorse.

"You're right," I consent, feeling guilty for having nearly forgotten about them and worrisome at the fact that we haven't heard a word since we split up.

And so we walk away from Peter, leaving him on the ground and alone again, something I'm terribly sure that has happened to him far too much. But what more can be done?

The last I see of him is his peaceful face beginning to twitch from waking up, eyebrows furrowing before his eyes open once more, still red as we shut the doors on him.

We lock them quickly, making sure he can't get out while we're gone.

Adam, I think to myself. Maybe Adam will know what to do with him.

We've just turned away from the locked door to the long hallway when I hear a scream, long and drawn out and utterly petrified.

Julia.

Gunshots and explosions and yells follow, and the world seems to move in slow motion as Susan and I run for our friends.