Vivian Li-Winters

Vivian wiped her sweaty palms off on her jacket. The edges of her fingers and her knuckles were white but her entire body felt angeringly scarlet. Like everyone else in the waiting room could tell she was running on steam The uniform beeping of hospital monitors sounded deafening as they waited in the waiting room. She was trying to stay calm, to not burst at the seams, but that was proving as a more difficult task than she first thought. Vivian was barely holding it together, she could hear the strands of her psyche and of her heart tugging.

Diana was here. Diana is alive. Memories of the day they'd heard the news and of the day they'd buried her in an empty coffin flickered in her mind. That day, hearing about her abduction, a thick, tightening band had laced itself around her heart and her throat. She felt it today, much more than she'd felt it in a long time.

Always there. Always unyieldingly strangling.

Other parents were in the waiting room, the only divide being an empty plastic chair between them. A mother sat beside her sniffling son as he clutched his knee, rubbing his back in gentle circles. The son reminded her of Henry, the way he'd always get hurt. As a child it was as if scrapes and bruises simply gravitated towards him. Every time he seemed to step beyond the house confines he'd come home with a new wound for her to patch. She'd been in the hospital dozens of times of the years. 

Today it was different. The seats were more uncomfortable. The beeps and sounds from nearby machines echoed through the hallways. 

Another buzz from her phone as it sat on her thigh sent her nerves running in a frenzy. Flipping it over, it was a text from Phoebe and Henry telling her they were almost there. She had called them as soon as she pulled herself from the carpet fibers. They had cried too. Sobs echoing over the telephone. 

She didn't know what to expect, Vivian was out of her depths here. Gripping Michael's hand the world felt a bit shallower, he ran a soothing but shaking thumb over the backside of her trembling fist. He was here, she reminded herself quietly.

A sikh doctor and a woman wearing an army uniform approached. Vivian stood with a pin straight back, her husband following suit.

"Mr and Mrs Winters?"

Michael interjected, shaking both their hands, "Can we see her?"

The doctor waved them into a nearby room. It was quiet, the blinds were closed. On the far wall, the doctor turned to files on the table. "You'll be able to see your daughter in just a moment. But first, I need to prepare you."

With trembling fingers Vivian interjected. She was usually a quiet woman, Diana was here. "Prepare us? Please, doctor, we just want to see our daughter again. Nothing else matters."

The doctor took a deep breath, the soldier was silent, standing outside the door. "Your daughter is not the same person that left you. She was gone a long time, and lived in a harsh area. We do not know the full effects that her situation had on her psyche."

"When we discharge Diana, it is going to be difficult. She's going to need a strong support system and time to readjust to the home. Remind yourself to be patient with her. I also advise not only her to get a therapist but also you and your family."

Both of them nodded slowly.

He led them down a hall, passing by nurses and patients until they reached a private wing. Inside a large window peered into a patient's room. The hallway was mostly empty except for the silent and trepidatious steps of Michael and Vivian Li-Winters. 

Diana.

Just a pane of glass between them. Her heart pounded in the cramped hallway, mind running amok with what to say, what to do. She'd imagined her daughter's homecoming a million times when she'd first gone missing. She'd known exactly what she was going to say when she got her child back.

Now, it seemed the chasm between them had never been so gaping. Guilt snipped the fiber. And every practiced word had drifted down into the black echo inches from her toes. Her daughter had been alone and scared for all this time and she'd left her.

Vivian and Michael both went to move forward but the doctors stopped them with an outstretched hand. "Much of Diana's body is covered in scarring, meaning when you see her, be sure to create an environment where she feels comfortable. That means no comments or pointing out of the scars. She also has unset fractures and extreme dehydration as well as malnutrition. Your reactions and words are important from here on out. Remember, outside of creating a support system, Diana is going to need help rebuilding her strength and health. These will be important on the road for physical recovery But for now, We're going to keep her here for a few weeks for observation and fixing all those issues."

"Now," The doctor clutched the chart closer to his chest, wrinkling his shirt, "would you like to see your daughter?"

"What about psychological recovery?' Michael asked, his lip quivering. His dark eyes set on his glass-distorted daughter with pain and fervour.

"This is where I again, highly reccomend a therapist." The phrase seemed only to carve deeper wrinkles between Diana's fathers eyebrows. 

Just as the doctor's hand gripped the door handle, Michael asked one last question. "What happened to her out there, Doctor?"

His hand stopped turning the handle and turned towards the two of them. Watching their downturned eyebrows and glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know the answer to that question. I'm going to be honest with you, it seems only your daughter can tell you that. She won't speak about the experience thus far so I highly recommend for you to try and get her to open up."

The door creaked open, hesitation and fear burning into Vivian's bones. The doctor spoke, "Hi, Diana. I have some visitors for you. Your parents are here to see you."

"My parents?" She didn't turn. Her voice sounded different, less airy and light like it once had been. She sounded tired.

Sitting, hunched over on the side of her bed, Diana was there. Light beams grasped the edges of the room.

Hand in hand, Michael and Vivian walked towards the bed. They heard the door quietly close behind them. An emotion Vivian didn't understand brimmed in the room, Michael led her every step. She didn't see Diana anymore. The young, sweet daughter that had left was pock marked with the pale, scarred visage of a girl she'd never met. Michael squeezed her hand tighter, whether the gesture was for her or for him, she didn't know. She didn't care.

Diana's face was overshadowed with long and scraggly hair. But in all honesty, her appearance wasn't the first thing Vivian noticed about her daughter. She looked hollow. There was a hollowness about her. In her eyes, in her heart, in her cheeks. 

It permeated her entire frame; sending her shoulders dipping forwards. And in her eyes, which one reminded Vivian of the a sunflower field had had all the colour stolen from them. 

We buried you. I buried you.