My thoughts turn dark with how little control I have in my life. I wish I could go back in time and do things over, but I can’t. I’ve lost my job, the one solid thing that’s been giving my life meaning since leaving the SEAL Teams. What about the new construction project I’ve been helping with? Is that over now, too? Will Vincent no longer hire the veterans because of my fuckup?

I’m lucid enough to understand how desperate I feel. Getting help can’t be the answer. It would only make shit worse. If I spoke about how I killed Rex … if I spoke about my past and all the shit I’d done … it would unleash the hardest memories, and that’s something I can’t do. I shiver, wishing I could add a padlock to my memories. I swipe across my eyes with my forearm, feeling the wetness coat my cheeks.

Initially, the move to Nevada was phenomenal. My memories of war were sealed in a large compartment in the back of my brain, buried securely between the fresh mountain air and heavy workload of starting a business. I was obsessed with working. I slept at night, only to be ready the next morning. I exercised and trained my body, so I could be efficient for the job.

I took a few days off to rest. My coffeemaker beeped, and an old memory sprang from some hidden compartment in my brain, pushing itself to the forefront. Since then, the random drip has turned into a flow. It’s been an endless cycle of horrible nightmares, followed by restlessness as my memories continue to strike at random. I try to ignore them, but they’re pecking on my subconscious and looming above me, just waiting for another moment to attack. I can’t get relief, except with the drugs. Lauren helps, but I’m afraid for her safety when I’m not medicated.

I grip the sink, dropping my head low. This isn’t me, but it’s me.

God, I never should have brought Lauren into this. She senses everything and is trying to excuse my behavior.

The temptation to cry rises, but I splash water over my face, forcing my body to calm down. Men don’t cry.

Climbing into the bed, I pull her soft body to mine, trying to enjoy this moment with my head lucid before the drugs go into effect. My hands glide into all that gorgeous, thick hair and soft, lush skin. It’s overwhelming, how good she feels in my arms. I love this woman. I just want to close my eyes for a few minutes, and then I’ll get up and take my pills. Just … a few … minutes …

19

Lauren

I’m warm in bed, woken up from cursing. White puffs of smoke billow outside his bedroom window. He must be sitting on his small stoop outside, smoking. Climbing out of my warm, blanketed cocoon, I try not to shiver. The clock on the bedside table tells me it’s 3:02 a.m.