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Ｉｎ his haste to get inside the hospital, he forgot to park the car properly, so Bryon just left the key to Elijah who just eyed him quizzically. He took the steps of the stairs two at a time while the grin on his lips seems like permanently plastered on his face.

Just a while ago, he felt like a bomb without a safety pin which about to explode anytime, but now, he feels like walking on air.

When he finally reaches the second floor of the building, padded through the long bright hallway, and about a few steps away from Daisy's room. Bryson thought he could finally be at ease knowing that Daisy is now awake and safe. But what he didn't anticipates nor the very idea itself to cross his mind is a sight he's going to encounter upon arriving in her designated room.

The door of the private room where Daisy is being confined is wide open and it's crowded to the point that there isn't almost enough space to squeeze in another person.

It was as if an interesting show was being played inside because nurses and even other patients were piling up in front of the door.

He immediately excuses himself and shoves the bystanders aside to get in and when he finally got a crystal view of what was going on. His heart sinks and it constricts most painfully. His instinct automatically kicks in— that is to protect Daisy from unwanted attention and prying eyes by the onlookers.

He expects his girlfriend to greet him with her enthusiastic sign language and a cheerful smile on her face. But fate has a different agenda for how his reunion with his girlfriend will take place because nothing like what he wished for happened.

She was in a hysterical and frantic state.

He wanted to throw a fist at someone who is holding both Daisy's arms as if she's a patient in an asylum. She's desperately trying to get herself free while her eyes are filled with fat tears that are continuously rolling down on her pale cheeks.

Bryson didn't even notice his foot moving on its own and his hands pulling the male nurse by his arms away from Daisy. Without reservation, Bryson pushes the man aside— releasing his hold on Daisy's fragile body.

"Bryson!" Annie's scolding voice boomed in all corners of the room, but he didn't pay attention to it.

Instead, he carefully approaches Daisy's trembling body who upon seeing him, instantly scooted at the very edge of the bed away from him while shaking her head frantically.

He raises his hands as a sign that he means no harm. "Shh. It's okay, baby. It's me, Bryson. I'm here now," he occupies the space beside the bed and tentatively snakes his arms on her petite body— embracing her tightly, but not too tight to brings her discomfort.

Bryson mutters encouraging and comforting words against the shell of her ear, but he couldn't help to hiss when her nails scrape his skin.

It stings and the warm liquid that was seeping out of it was a telltale indication that whatever was happening was real. And nothing was more painful than seeing his flower being dishevelled and distressed.

If she can inflict pain on him just to lessen her burden, he would gladly accept it wholeheartedly.

Bryson continued to calm her down by rubbing her back in a slow manner all while, trying to reign the whirlwind of emotions clashing inside of him.

What is happening?

"What happened here? What did you do to her?" Bryson asks no one. Fuming mad under his breathe, even though he was baselessly accusing them of doing something that triggered Daisy's panic attack, he just wanted some answers as to why his girlfriend was being in such hysteria.

What triggered such an occurrence?

He was shocked, to say the least, confuse even and ambivalent about what to do. Torn between comforting her or calling whoever it is to ease her pain because clearly, he was of no use as of the moment.

"I—I don't know, hun. I was just talking to Mr. Henderson outside Daisy's room a while ago and then we heard some screaming and when we headed inside, she was already in that kind of state. Really, I don't know what happened to her," Annie's explanation didn't appease Bryson's concerns, but he refrains himself from bombarding them with questions after questions. He can do that after Daisy has calm down.

And how to pacify his girl's anguish? That is his major concern at present.

Daisy's trembling increases in a rapid state. Her thrashing becomes violent and she was whimpering like a frightened animal trying to get out in a cage where she was held captive for so long.

"Shorty. It's me. I'm here. Shh. Please stop crying. It's me," his continuous assurance was just like a passing wind. You can barely feel nor heard it. That's must be what Daisy was seeing and feeling at the moment, as everything around her was devoid of any lights, sounds, or presence. And she was trap inside her own tormenting thoughts.

No matter what he says, she won't stop pushing him away like he burns her skin or as if he was carrying a contiguous disease.

Fuck! Fuck!

This isn't what I picture our night to end. Can't this day give us some break?

Daisy's hands that were gripping his arms move to her chest, clenching it while panting like she was out of breath. She was hyperventilating and that was when Bryson's panic intensified.

At this point, she will most likely pass out due to exhaustion or worst, her wounds might open up again. But fortunately, the stitches on the right side of her body from the bullet wound are not bleeding.

He cradled her face with his hands and points her face directly at his. Bryson searches her disoriented eyes, hoping that if she sees him, she'll get back to her senses.

But nothing like that happened, far from it.

He is not a weak person, even when those times that he felt unwelcome in his own family, he still holds himself up. Bryson didn't like showing his vulnerabilities. If there was even a slight crack on his armour, he always quick to patch it up. He can't jeopardize his weak spot and let the others use it against him.

But when his eyes connected to hers, the pain that was lingering underneath was so distinguishable— it was filled to the brim that he can almost feel the intensity of it.

The suffering she had been through, the torture she had endured, the lonely day she embraces by herself, and the nightmare that keeps on haunting her even in her waken state.

The feeling was too much, so much that it even knock the air out of his lungs.

Gone the twinkling and lively chestnut eyes, replaced by the black and dull colour— dyeing the blank canvas and smudging it in the process by her own waterworks. It was just a hollow of nothingness, sucking everything in its wake and taking the life out of anyone who dares to make a contact with it.

The negative emotions are all overwhelming for him, the sorrow is all too consuming. Bryson's heartache in more ways than the last time he feels like sinking and drowning in the bottom of the ocean— when he cried in his mother's arms

It's all too much.

There was still a commotion going on in their surrounding, he can feel the peering eyes of the spectators behind him which irritated him even more.

Why can't they just leave them alone? Is Daisy's situation really that entertaining?

"Honey, the doctor is already here. H—he just took the sedative that would calm Daisy down," his mom's voice didn't even register to him, instead, he adjusts his position. Bryson who was still cradling Daisy's body, press her head against his chest— hiding it from the cruel world.

He turned his upper body towards the direction of the door and with the uttermost murderous glare he could muster, he throws the dagger at every gossiper.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here. All of you, fuck off!" he seethed. His voice decreases an octave, it was so deep that it seemed to have been drawn straight from the depths of hell.

All eyes went wide open because of his sudden outburst but Bryson couldn't care less anymore. He was done playing nice and quiet. They can talk about his rude manners all they want, but no one can gossip about Daisy's condition.

"Bry—"

"Not now mom. Not now," he interjects and gives Annie a short glance then averts it to the old doctor who was standing a few good distances from them— holding a syringe in his right hand and a small bottle in the other. "You. Do your job. Now," he barks in a commanding voice, trying to be calm and at the same time, rubbing the small of Daisy's back to soothe her.

Yeah. Being respectful was the last thing of his priority.

He knew his mom will surely scold him for his misbehaviour and people will talk about how the troublemaker of the Kingstons family once again shows his horns. But nothing really matters to him. No one matter asides from his light.

Annie shortly apologizes to the murmuring bystanders before the withdrawing footsteps of the people outside the room echo in the hallway followed by the closing of the door. He releases the breath he was holding. Finally, they got the hint that he doesn't want their unimportant attention, but why does his mom apologizes to those idiots?

What is happening and about to happen inside this room is none of their business. He just clicked his tongue and ignore the penetrating gaze of Annie on the back of his head.

Bryson reluctantly pushes Daisy's body away from him. Trying to convey through his eyes his good intentions. Seems like she was in a daze, the hypnotism of some sort— like she was inside of a nightmare and doesn't know how to get back to reality.

This is all that man's fault. I will fucking kill that fucking bastard once I get a hold of his useless life. Fuck!

"Hey, listen to me, baby. You will gonna be fine, 'kay? I won't let anyone ever hurt or even touch a strand of your hair. Not again. You hear me?" his hands slowly cupped her face— tracing and wiping the teardrops using his thumbs.

His heart breaks into million pieces, knowing that he is there beside her but feels like she can't see him and she is slipping farther and farther away.

"I will inject the sedative on her arm now, it will relieve her from her panic disorder, so just keep on holding her," the old doctor says.

Bryson only nods his head, moving his eyes back and forth from the syringe in the old doctor's hand and to his girlfriend's tender arm.

"Bae— What th—," a familiar shaky voice that he was sure of close to breaking into tears resounded in the rooms that didn't even faze him, though.

All he can think about is Daisy. His world just revolves around her. Only her. And his world is slowly wrecking apart and to hell, he will allow it to happen.

The doctor slowly raises his hand and inserts the syringe into a small bottle. When he gets closer to the bed, she frantically pulled away, shaking her head and gripping Bryson's arms almost painfully. Her nails were digging holes in his skin. But, he just rocked her body to reassure her that she was safe in his arms and nothing— no one can hurt her again as long as he was there beside her.

"Baby. Look at me. I'm here. I will never leave you again. Shh, it's okay," he held her face firmly against his palms, trying to make her look into him. Her chestnut eyes that were dulled of any emotions except agony were staring back on his chest.

It became puffy because of how much crying she had done without stopping.
Bryson only wishes that that would be the last time he would see his girlfriend went through such an excruciating state.

I don't want to fucking see it again.

"Baby. Hey. I'm here. I love you. I love you so much, baby. It's me. Your Bryson."

Once the doctor successfully injects the drug into her veins, it took 20 minutes for it to takes effect and after a fleeting moment, Daisy's eyes became drowsy, her breathing slowly evened out, and her tight grasp on his arms weakened.

A glimpse of recognition started to beacon in her eyes. The chestnut-coloured orbs sluggishly travel from his chest, up to his chin, and finally locked into his ocean blue ones.

She gazes at him, roaming her eyes all over his face. Trying to memorize the person that owns half of her heart and Bryson accepts all of her— relaying the message through his hooded eyes. The overwhelming love and adoration he has stored in his heart that belongs only and solely for her.

Daisy finally stops thrashing and her heartbeats slowly went back to normal.
The soft breath that was coming out from her open mouth fanned his face. Their lips were almost touching, their chest was so close that even air couldn't get past them.

A faint smile drifted off his lips, finally, she's back.

My Daisy is back.

His thumbs trace her cheeks, then it moves to her lips. He slowly planted a feathery kiss on her forehead and mutters the word 'I love you' against her cold skin.

And then he stilled as his heart stop beating because of a velvety, soft, but slightly raspy voice that reverberates in his ears. It was so sweet and gentle that he can barely hear it, but a quiet call meant only for him.

"Bryson."

•・•✿•・•

Bryson was speechless. He wanted to slap himself, doubting if what he just heard was just a dream or an illusion. But before he could even react, he felt Daisy's body slackens until all her weight leans against him.

He gently lay her down on the hospital bed, covering her small frame with the white blanket and refusing to remove himself beside her even when Mr. Henderson starts to check her vitals.

Bryson squeezes Daisy's frail and pale hand before giving her knuckles three chaste kisses. He then faces the old doctor  on the other side of the bed and says, "Talk."

"Bryson! Where's your manners!? Apologize!" Annie reprimands Bryson's rude action towards the old doctor, Mr. Henderson, who was still standing beside Daisy's bed— checking the IV fluid while jotting down something on the clipboard he was holding.

"It's okay, Mrs. Kingston. I understand where his temper is coming from," the old doctor chuckles while placing the stethoscope on Daisy's chest. "Her heartbeats went back to normal, thank god. The alprazolam will wear off mostly for about an hour or two since I've only administered minimal dosage,"

When they give the old doctor a confused stare, he continues. "It's a type of sedative mainly use for anxiety or panic disorders. But if she regains her consciousness, I can't assure you that what happened earlier won't happen again," Mr. Henderson said, hanging the medical tool on his neck and closing the clipboard to gives his full attention to the awaiting three persons in the room.

"What do you mean, doctor?" Annie asked, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

Bryson can tell that her mom is also worried about Daisy's welfare as much as he is. They all are, even the wrinkly doctor is not an exemption, maybe because he sympathizes with his patient, who knows.

The tension inside the room is very heavy and eminent as if a thick layer of smoke is slowly filling their lungs out, making it harder to breathe each passing second.

Mr. Henderson heaves a tired sigh, shaking his head like what he had encountered a while ago burns out all his energy. "To be honest, I've never encountered such reaction from my previous cases. Usually, the patient who has undergone surgery often wakes up with no recollection of what happened to him or her. They will also feel the aftermath of the surgery, either numbness or postoperative delirium due to the anesthesia. But, such maniacal reaction—," he shakes his head again and gives them a sympathetic look.

Bryson can almost taste the vile words in his mouth. But the answer he didn't want to hear was already painted on Mr. Henderson's face even though he hadn't uttered it yet.

It's a piece of bad news. Very bad news.

"It's a panic attack, yes, we all know that already. Can you just get to the point now?" It wasn't Bryson who talks, that impatient voice came from Megan who was leaning her body on the bedside table.

Annie just gives Bryson and Megan an unimpressed glance before clearing her throat. "She will be fine, right? Not just emotionally and mentally, but also physically. I mean, what about her wound?" she asked hesitantly, waiting to hear reassuring answers from the professional.

"Yes. Luckily her violent movement didn't botcher her stitches. It's not bleeding, so you can leave all your worries behind about that. But—" the doctor trailed off.

"Before I tell you my analysis about Ms. Swales' condition. Is Mr. Davies gonna join us? He's the only available relative the patient has. He also needs to hear and know what I have to say, so he must be present here."

Mr. Davies. Right. A family of Daisy who just magically appear out of nowhere. Bryson almost forgot that issue, and since the old doctor brought the topic about it, Bryson scowled and roamed his eyes all over the place.

His attention might be occupied by Daisy's wellbeing when he entered the room, but he was still mindful of his surroundings and ever since he arrives, he didn't see the face of that man again.

So, he left? Just like that after knowing what happened to his niece?

"The mayor informed me before he left that he has an important matter to attend to and will be back tomorrow morning to visits Daisy. He stayed here throughout the night after Daisy's operation. He is a busy man, Mr. Henderson, and as his secretary, I can attest to that."

Bryson's hold on Daisy's hands tightens upon hearing those words. "Busy? Is work more important to him than Daisy!?" he couldn't help but insinuate his thought. He wanted to say more, probably rude remarks, but when Annie gives him one of her famous glares, he just bit his tongue and grumbled under his breath.

The doctor nods his head understandingly, "I see. I will just give Mr. Davies a heads up about what I am going to discuss with you all right now."

The room fell into a deafening silence, asides from the buzzing sound coming from the air conditioning, no one dares to make some noise. The three of them just patiently wait for the doctor to say more, preparing themselves for the upcoming news.

"Whatever happened to Ms. Swales earlier was because of a mental health condition," Mr. Henderson concludes, pausing and taking a glance at Daisy then faces them again. "I'm not a psychiatrist but I am sure she has PTSD, a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event— either experiencing it or witnessing it."

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

Bryson had heard of it before and he knew it was not a simple condition that could be treated overnight.

Different reactions can be heard inside the cold and seemingly dark room. Annie gasps. Megan muttered something incoherent, but Bryson heard a few series of cusses, while, he tried to process in his disoriented mind the newfound information about his flower.

He was speechless because it never crossed his mind that Daisy was suffering from such a horrible disorder.

The smoke that was trying to accumulate their lungs finally managed to infiltrate their body. Clouding not just the respiratory system that helps them breathe, but also the only organ that makes them think.

Bryson who was still clutching Daisy's hands removes his eyes from the creasing face of the old doctor then diverts them to his girlfriend's face which is pale as snow and beautiful as a blooming flower.

She is so ethereal. Like an angel who fell from heaven to cleanse the dark and bad side of this world. In comparison to all of the people inside the private room, Bryson is pretty sure she is the purest, kindhearted, and innocent person he has ever known.

Daisy has a pure heart, kind eyes, and an innocent mind... so why?

He could not understand why, of all the people, why she was suffering from a disorder caused by her past?

What happened to her?

Who did it to her?

He loves her with all his heart, mind, and soul— no doubt about it, but another question creeps inside his rational thought. One that shouldn't be there in the first place but was too pertinacious to leave.

Who exactly is Daisy he knows?

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