Alexander stood by Mila’s side, once again on the laboratory bed, treating her wounds while she slept. One of the female scientists had helped Mila change out of her special suit and into a robe, to take the gear back to the facility it was made. Now alone, Alexander studied Mila’s battered and bruised body, cleaning and dressing each of her cuts.
From time to time, Mila’s body jerked like a fish out of water and he knew she was dreaming something terrible. He felt as if Mila was calling him from the depths of her dreams. He engaged his special power to see dreams and witnessed the macabre visions stored in her subconscious mind. Although the images were unintelligible at times, they were often the same: a cradle, green eyes gazing lovingly at her. A beautiful woman with hands full of leaves, butterflies fluttering through a wild forest or jungle. Then another woman in white, drifting away in a boat.
“It’s quite a collage of heartaches, Mila.” Alexander whispered, tending each of the cuts. He thought about all the people in Mila’s dreams—especially one. It was the woman departing on a boat that had touched a part of himself he kept tucked away. It was a private space in his heart in which Mila and her visions were now lodged. Was the woman on the boat her mother? Alexander wondered. He recalled the lady’s peaceful but sad gaze, her white clothes swaying in the sea breeze as she waved her hand in what seemed to be a farewell.
As a man of science, Alexander forced himself to ignore dispositions calling for spiritual reflection, arguing that it was the poetic and artistic imagery of Mila’s sleep that attracted him. Yet in the introspective solitude in which spiritual truths often emerge, he accepted that it was the experience he had also gone through. It was the pain of losing a loved one who was a stabilizing anchor in a potentially chaotic world. He sighed and shook his head to refocus on the task at hand.
Mila groaned and swung her arms in the air as if fighting as timid tears rolled out from the corners of her eyes to the bed.
“Don’t worry, Mila, your secrets are safe with me,” Alexander whispered. He witnessed her face transitioning from fear to anger, from pain to calmness. And once again, appearing diaphanous despite the bruised and swollen cheekbones and cut lips. In her sleep state, he watched her reveal her unguarded inner self, exposing a woman hiding the sweetness and candor of a girl underneath. He left her to rest and went to his desk.
Mila regained consciousness but stayed still, observing the familiar scene: soft lights and the collection of smart machines around her, reading her vital signs. The masculine fragrance told her Alexander was near. She recalled the previous time she had woken up in the same place, fearful, a cornered animal ready to fight. But this time, the physical pain joined the mental exhaustion in collective oppression. She couldn’t lift up her head to see that he was at his desk, but she could hear him shuffling on his seat, typing on the keyboard.
Mila felt as if they had fished her out of a blender. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know of her pitiful condition. She was sure her appearance matched her aches. Every one of her muscles hurt to the point that even the thought of moving a single finger pained her.
When she gathered the strength to lift her head in Alexander’s direction, she gazed at the young scientist. His back as always straight, his posture assertive and resolute. He seemed lost in the world of images and graphs from the night before. Alexander pressed the keys speedily and with great precision sometimes enlarging the captured scenes on his computer screens.
“Every time I fall unconscious, I awake in the same place,” Mila mumbled, meeting Alexander’s surprised gaze. She stared at his eyes, the lamps of his soul, and saw in them concern.
“Fearing you won’t believe me, I’m glad you wake up here, and I’m able to care for you,” Alexander answered, coming to her side.
“Did I pass the test?” asked Mila, trying to sit up, but her body felt so heavy. She winced and groaned, propping her elbows on the bed.
“With flying colors! Please, you must lie down and rest.” He helped her lie back.
“How many people were there out? Had I ingested a hallucinogenic?” Mila looked intensely into his eyes, knowing well that she had, but she was too tired and too sore to press as she normally would. She was willing to accept whatever he had to offer. “How much of it was real and how much was the effect of the hallucinogenic?”
Alexander deviated his gaze to her bruises and the torn skin of her open wounds now clean and wrapped in soft, sterile gauze.
“The special guards were real. I think you were able to recognize them even after ingesting the experimental drug.” He looked at her, but his gaze seemed to go beyond her physical body. He was watching those dreadful images. “The hallucinogenic had a quite powerful effect on you. The suit readings and the recording showed you fighting for your life, but there was no one around, just trees. I feared you would come back with a collection of broken bones, but aside from your fractured ribs, there are lacerations, scrapes and bruises all over your arm and legs… These will heal faster.” Alexander looked at her wrapped torso, imagining how painful it was for her to breathe.
“I saw a beautiful wolf at the end, and I pierced her heart feeling my own shattering,” she murmured, forlorn, seeing the creature in her mind, so real.
“I couldn’t understand what was happening. I saw you stabbing the air while pressing your chest. For a second I thought you had stabbed yourself, and I sent the team to bring you back immediately.” Alexander regarded her with compassion. He had done his part to help her from the moment Masae brought her to him and he knew he would continue to find ways to aid her freedom.
Mila didn’t answer and turned her gaze away from his. Her heart was still aching, although she figured that if there was something wrong with it, Alexander would have mentioned it. So, she thought, the pain wasn’t physical, it was in her mind, in her soul.
“You have an acute survival instinct, Mila. You cling to life for all its worth.” Alexander squeezed her hand gently, making her turn back to him.
“I’m exhausted. Fighting with branches and invisible wolves have drained me. How long will you keep me in your lab?” Mila closed her eyes, hoping to fall into a long and deep sleep.
“You are free to go now. Your wounds are treated,” Alexander offered his hand to help her rise.
Mila accepted the gesture; her suspicions and pride had departed along with the desire to be confrontational. But instead, she rolled to her side pitifully, still holding his hand, and fell asleep.
“I’m sorry, Mila,” Alexander whispered, covering her with a thin blanket.