Returned to Sender - Scarlett Johansson

Part 4

Scarlett's POV

Sawyer has such a sweet little voice. Hearing her say that name made my heart melt. I hadn't heard that name in so long; I had never told anyone her name, not as if anyone knew about her to say to them it. Not to mention Miss Smith had only referred to her as the child and my daughter. Hearing her tell me her own name to me was something I never realised I craved until she did it. Although I hate how much pain coated her words as if she was physically in pain over how scared she is right now.

The way her little voice reached my ears was like hearing that cry after she was born all over again. However, I didn't have much time to celebrate this, as she was clearly still distressed by whatever had just happened. I made a mental note never to call her sweetheart again, as that seemed to be what had triggered something in her a minute ago. I hate to even consider what memories must be connected to that word to create such a physical fear response.

Looking at her sitting there staring at me so brokenly made my heart shatter; what had happened to her in the last nine years?

I had been looking at her again, caught up in my thoughts instead of replying to her. So I fumbled to say something, "It's a beautiful name. Should we go back to the bed? It's better for your ribs," I asked as gently as possible, knowing she startled easily. After those idiot doctors, I think it is safe to say she doesn't like loud noises or being touched, which is understandable given the very little I know about her past. I don't think her body can handle a third panic attack in an hour. Especially since I noticed she tends to hurt herself by accident during them; rocking back and forth must calm her, but the way she was banging her head against the wall scared me.

It was like she was trying to bash the memories out of her skull. I couldn't stop myself from stopping her from hurting herself; I mean, she can't handle any more pain, and she really shouldn't be inflicted with any more pain. She seemed to ponder my question as if sizing me up for a while. I don't know what she saw, but as her eyes met mine again, I could see the tension ease in her shoulders; she just shrugged and began to stand.

After hearing all that was wrong with her, I wanted to rush to her and scoop her up in my arms. On top of the two panic attacks she had just had, I knew her body must be in agony. She must be in so much pain; I want to take it all away, make it so she didn't even know what pain felt like, but I can't, and it's clear this isn't her first time experiencing hurt like this. I wanted to rush to her and scoop her up, keeping her safe, but I didn't want to scare her away either; I knew she wasn't ready for me to get close to her, let alone scoop her up into my arms. Plus, I am pretty confident that once I get her in my arms, I am never letting go, and she is definitely not ready for that yet.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed?" I asked cautiously, out of fear of scaring her away more. Again she sized me up; she seems to do that a lot, looking at people so intensely as if she could see a person's soul. Sizing them up for threats. The idea that she needs to look out for hazards further breaks my heart. What type of people has she been around if she sees everyone as a threat?

Looking back to the floor, she started hobbling back to the bed, completely ignoring my previous question. Sighing, I stood up and just watched as she stumbled back to the bed, limping on the boot enclosed around her left ankle and clutching her ribs slightly on the opposing side. I tried to stay close, my arms out, ready to catch her if she fell. She must be in agony, especially since she ripped out the IV, which previously supplied her with pain medication.

"Please let me help you; you must be in pain, Sawyer?" I asked, a little more desperate this time. I watched as her shoulders tensed as I spoke. She paused her limping but didn't make a move to reply or turn to look at me, and then she continued as if I wasn't there. Before she could reach the bed, she staggered more than previously. I was terrified she was about to fall or pass out, but at the same time, I was terrified of touching her and setting something off again.