"He was the type of person people would write sad poems about."
HIGHEST RANKING #1 in Depression-awareness
HIGHEST RANKING #1 in sadstuck
HIGHEST RANKING #1 in creative writing
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Ziva sat in a white chair across from the medic, looking up at him from under her lashes. The young girl was dressed in plain but clean clothing her parents had brought, her hands nervously twisting together in her lap.
Her family loomed in the background, their anxious breaths and concerned rumblings filling the room. Their eyes were focused on Ziva as they watched her.
The medic was quiet for a moment as he studied his notes, then he looked up and met Ziva's gaze. The medic's voice was soft and kind as he began to speak.
"You see, there's been some damage to a very important part of your brain, and it seems like it's caused some problems." The medic paused, "Specifically, it's made it very difficult for you to remember things," he continued.
He began to gently explain to Ziva's family that, sadly, the young girl likely wouldn't remember her parents, herself ,or anything else. She suffered a traumatic brain injury that may have resulted in temporary memory loss.
Ziva's mother struggled to hold back her tears, her body shaking as she tried to keep herself together. "Doctor," she spoke up, her voice shaky with emotion. "Is there something we can do?" she asked, her eyes desperately pleading with the medic.
The doctor thought for a moment, before providing them with a solution. "Enough of rest, don't stress her out. Maybe revisit old memories with her," he advised with a smile before moving on to assist with another patient.
"Let's go home," the family Jackson stood up.
Elijah abruptly halted in his footsteps. "You want to visit an old friend while you're here?" he asked his sister who nodded slowly, uncertain. Ziva wouldn't remember them anyways.
Anytime she tried to dredge up memories of her past- the things that made her Ziva- her head would throb in agony. She'd tried to force herself to try and remember but they remained blurred and elusive.
Ziva's mother kissed her daughter's forehead one last time, a sympathetic smile on her face as she lovingly held her face, like she was a porcelain doll. Ziva's father squeezed her shoulder fondly, nodding at Elijah. The look he gave him basically described "Make sure nothing happens." Elijah nodded back.
He watched as their parents walked to the elevator before he too, turned around. Elijah walked alongside Ziva to the other hospital room, an awkwardness hung over the siblings as they both struggled to comprehend her condition.
They stopped in front another hospital room door. "Good thing they put your rooms close," Elijah awkwardly chuckled.
Ziva just stared at him, waiting for him to open the door.
Elijah opened the door and walked in the room with Ziva right behind him. The girl peeked from behind her brother's back. Her eyes fell on a brown haired boy who lay unmoving in his hospital bed. Her brows furrowing, she took a slow step forward, her eyes darting up to her brother. "Was...he.. was he a friend of mine?" she whispered softly.
