You're lying in a bed, not saying a single word. What is there to say?
You're safe now. That is a fact.
But, there are voices beyond the curtain; and you turn, opening your eyes to see through a slit in the covering shielding your battered body from sight. There is someone...your mother, talking to the doctor. Right beside her too, your remaining elder brother.
She asks, "How is he?"
The doctor replies, "Alive. It could have been worse. But, you'll have that German agent to thank for. If it wasn't for him..."
That's right. He called himself Heinz. You had told him you were better off dead, and believed it. It's what you had wanted, after being captive for that amount of time. Even now, even with your loved ones beside you, you selfishly can't see the reason to move forward. You're just so tired, and you know...
That not all of those involved suffered what they deserved. You know that you will live in fear, wondering if you will suffer such a fate again. The medicine can dull the hurt in your body, but not the pain in your being.
Your mother, bless her soul, comes on over to where you lay. Maybe she knows you're awake. She calls, "Ganymede? My son, oh my dear son..."
"Wait," Says your older brother, reaching out to grab a hold of your mother's wrist, "Let him rest. Next time we can see him when he's better...for all of our sakes."
She hesitates and turns away. In the afternoon lighting, she can't see through the slit that you do, their blurry images fading into spots of color that are hard to discern as you lose consciousness.
After that, you see some familiar faces. You barely respond, staring blankly, feeling hollow. There's pity, fear, and then finally, judgment concealed behind friendly faces. Ones you see less and less as time goes on, as it is made clear that your long recovery makes you more of a burden than not.
You decide that even if you were in excruciating pain, that even though the world turned its back on you, and allowed you to suffer cruel indignities, you will never show that you can't get up by yourself. You don't need to take anyone's hand, nor to take their kindness given to you, so that you must pay them back in full. As much as possible, because if you're ever in a spot where you can't rely on anyone and you can't see the future...you'll have to move forward.
But, you feel the weight of those feelings and wonder.
Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling. Then, the door opens, revealing the final visitor before your release from the hospital.
A glimpse of white, and then words that become indistinct mumbles as the memory fades.
...
With the mirror having shown what it has, Ganymede's reaction is hardly much of one. ]
Mirror Memory III (cw: suicidal ideation, captivity mention)
You're lying in a bed, not saying a single word. What is there to say?
You're safe now. That is a fact.
But, there are voices beyond the curtain; and you turn, opening your eyes to see through a slit in the covering shielding your battered body from sight. There is someone...your mother, talking to the doctor. Right beside her too, your remaining elder brother.
She asks, "How is he?"
The doctor replies, "Alive. It could have been worse. But, you'll have that German agent to thank for. If it wasn't for him..."
That's right. He called himself Heinz. You had told him you were better off dead, and believed it. It's what you had wanted, after being captive for that amount of time. Even now, even with your loved ones beside you, you selfishly can't see the reason to move forward. You're just so tired, and you know...
That not all of those involved suffered what they deserved. You know that you will live in fear, wondering if you will suffer such a fate again. The medicine can dull the hurt in your body, but not the pain in your being.
Your mother, bless her soul, comes on over to where you lay. Maybe she knows you're awake. She calls, "Ganymede? My son, oh my dear son..."
"Wait," Says your older brother, reaching out to grab a hold of your mother's wrist, "Let him rest. Next time we can see him when he's better...for all of our sakes."
She hesitates and turns away. In the afternoon lighting, she can't see through the slit that you do, their blurry images fading into spots of color that are hard to discern as you lose consciousness.
After that, you see some familiar faces. You barely respond, staring blankly, feeling hollow. There's pity, fear, and then finally, judgment concealed behind friendly faces. Ones you see less and less as time goes on, as it is made clear that your long recovery makes you more of a burden than not.
You decide that even if you were in excruciating pain, that even though the world turned its back on you, and allowed you to suffer cruel indignities, you will never show that you can't get up by yourself. You don't need to take anyone's hand, nor to take their kindness given to you, so that you must pay them back in full. As much as possible, because if you're ever in a spot where you can't rely on anyone and you can't see the future...you'll have to move forward.
But, you feel the weight of those feelings and wonder.
Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling. Then, the door opens, revealing the final visitor before your release from the hospital.
A glimpse of white, and then words that become indistinct mumbles as the memory fades.
...
With the mirror having shown what it has, Ganymede's reaction is hardly much of one. ]
It looks like I was wrong.