AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fuck. No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape those soulless black eyes.
What if they torment me for the rest of my life?
Despair settles over me like a wet blanket. I can’t keep doing this night after night.
I’ll give therapy another shot when this is over, even though I despise talking about my darkness. It’s bad enough I know what happened. The idea of verbally reliving my past again makes me cringe, but the thought of living the rest of my life like this is far more horrifying.
Because I rarely sleep, I’m normally at the hospital long before sunrise. This particular morning, though, I have to wait for a department store to open. I’ve got to have new jeans. I’ve lost so much weight that my clothes are hanging off me. Stress destroys my appetite and makes me nauseous, so even if I eat, it’s only a few bites. Last night I took off my skinny jeans by sliding them down and stepping out of them, still buttoned and zipped. While I’m waiting, I pay bills online and reply to business emails. I also email Lila and Tucker seeking their opinions about changes to my home to accommodate Mark’s needs, attaching a staggering sixty-seven page file of his therapists’ suggestions. I need help finding a local contractor quickly, one who does good work and won’t overcharge me. I don’t trust my own judgment. Unyielding stress and sleep deprivation have me functioning on autopilot, and anything requiring mental focus is a struggle.
While I’m in line at the store, I text Mark to tell him I’m running late, but there’s no response. I text again to ask if he needs anything, but he still doesn’t answer.
It’s a shame I didn't grasp the significance of that before waltzing in unprepared.
MARK
I leap from the armored vehicle before it’s come to a full stop, desperate to find her. One of our MRAPs is blackened and smoking, fully incinerated. The other is tipped over on its side in a ditch. There’s no movement around either of them. I scan the interior of the burned vehicle and see four charred bodies. My stomach lurches.
Please God, no. I can’t lose Charlie.
I race to the other vehicle, jumping down into the ditch. Two of my men are there, Max and Mike, gunned down on the medical aid call I sent them on. Now they lie in blood-soaked sand with unseeing eyes, their bodies riddled with bullets. I snatch the back door of the vehicle open. There are four more bloody bodies, but not Charlie. Not Lila, either. Insurgents.
Tucker grabs my shoulders from behind. “Lila? Is she –” I hear the panic in his voice and shake my head.
“They’re not here.”
“They’re gone?” He can barely speak.
I nod my head, gesturing to the men lying behind the vehicle, my own men, men I sent to their deaths. “Max and Mike rode with them. But the girls – they aren’t here.”
Tucker whirls around, scanning the horizon, looking for any sign, any clue. I sink to my knees. Of the eight I sent out, six are dead, and two are missing. The two women.
They’re gone.
She’s gone.
And it’s my fault.
I bolt upright in a panic, breathing hard, seized by intense physical and emotional pain. Spasms of phantom pain violently grip me, leaving me gasping and writhing. It’s brutal. The pain meds barely take the edge off, and the frustration of everything conspiring against me piles higher and higher until I’m ready to explode.
Charlie’s safe now. We found her. She’s safe. Lila too.
I need Charlie.
Charlie grounds me. Reassures me. Centers me.
I’m up the rest of the night, watching for her long before daylight. She always senses when I need her. She’ll be here soon.
But she isn’t. Sunrise passes without her. That’s not like her.
I wait, fidgeting. Another lousy breakfast comes and goes untouched. No Charlie.
Where is she?
My frustration builds, accompanied by a tightness in my chest I haven’t felt in a long time.
Not in four years.
It’s time for PT, but I skip it, my anxiety skyrocketing as I wait for her.
