Fighting For the Gospel

CARRIE, LIN – Jan 2000


Lin blinked when she saw who was there with her. On a chair. Beside her bed. The lovely long blond hair in slight disarray, as always.

“You came … to visit me.” Lin felt another smile coming. It was a good feeling, even if she could hardly feel the rest of her body. Or … remember. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been sitting here trying to talk to you for hours,” Carrie said, “and it was like you were awake at times and heard me but then you fell asleep again.”

Lin shook her head. “I … don’t remember.”

Carrie looked as if she was about to cry. “Well, they say there’s a lot of things you can’t remember after another treatment.”


“The electro-shocks, yeah.” Carrie looked away briefly. The room was completely white, like all hospitals, and should’ve been ugly.

But now that Carrie was here it seemed like the most beautiful room in the world.

“Patrick must be furious since you spend so much time here,” Lin said.

Carrie shook her head. “He’ll survive.”

“I’m glad you came.” Lin tried to smile again. “Mom and uncle were here yesterday, that much I do remember. God, it was awkward …”

Carrie leaned over and brushed the dark curls gently away from Lin’s sweaty brow. “We have all told them it was time you tried coming home again. Dialed down a little bit on the meds. But they still say no … I don’t know what to do.”

“Just be here with me,” Lin said and put her hand in Carrie’s. “I don’t want you to do anything else.”