Chapter 4 - The Blank Stare
"Mark?" Sarah whispered, her voice trembling as she took a slow, agonizing step forward.
The man in the chair didn't blink. His gaze swept over her face, completely devoid of any emotion, before landing on the little girl hiding nervously behind Sarah’s leg. Mark visibly flinched, pulling his knees slightly to his chest in a defensive posture. His hands, rough and heavily calloused from years of service, were fiercely gripping the scorched crayon drawing James had given back to him.
"Who are you?" Mark’s voice was hoarse, gravelly, and defensive. It didn't hold the warm, teasing baritone Sarah had listened to for a decade. It sounded like a cornered, frightened animal.
"Daddy?" Emily stepped out from behind her mother’s protective stance. She walked forward, her innocent eyes wide with a desperate, heartbreaking hope. "It's me. It's your Emmy."
Mark stared at the little girl. He looked down at the stick-figure drawing in his trembling hand, then back up at her face. Suddenly, his brow furrowed in severe, blinding pain. He dropped the paper, gripping the sides of his head and letting out a low, agonizing groan that shattered the quiet of the room. The heart monitors attached to his chest began to beep frantically, a piercing alarm of distress.
"Get out!" Mark shouted, turning his wheelchair away and curling his body into the corner of the room. "I don't know you! I don't know what you want from me! Leave me alone!"
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A team of nurses rushed into the room, their faces urgent. They gently but firmly corralled Sarah and a hysterically crying Emily out into the stark hallway. The heavy door clicked shut, severing them once again from the man they had spent three years praying for.
Sarah slumped against the cold hospital wall and finally broke down. She slid to the floor, pulling Emily into her arms, realizing with a crushing weight that bringing him back from the battlefield was only half the war. The real battle was locked inside his mind.
