Slade McCormack <[email protected]>

To: Lauren Amini

Subject: Hello

Lauren,

It’s been eight weeks since we’ve seen each other or spoken. There are so many things I wanted to tell you but couldn’t. The truth is, I shouldn’t be contacting you. Not yet. Not while my life is still in shambles.

When you’re done with this letter, you might think that I wrote it because I want your sympathy. It’s not the case. I realize that, after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve forgiveness or your friendship. I only want to share the truth because you ought to have it. We weren’t together long, but I swear it when I say, you mean something to me. More than anyone else ever has. I hurt you, physically and emotionally. And I am so sorry. Hopefully, after this letter, you will understand why I acted the way I did.

I left the SEAL Teams because I killed my best friend, Rex. It wasn’t my bullet, but I didn’t stop the one that shot him. My failure caused his death. After he died, I couldn’t go on. I wasn’t acting straight. Doing my job became impossible, and I retired before they could discharge me.

I came home to an empty house. Not only were my parents gone, but my brother had also recently died in combat in Iraq. After selling my family home, I got on the road. Stopping in New York City, I met Vincent at a boxing gym. We became friends, and he offered me the job at the Milestone to run security for him.

Things were decent for a while after that. Until they weren’t. Flashbacks began to assault me for any reason or no reason at all. I brought a sweet girl to my place and had an incident in my sleep. She woke with my hand around her neck, choked out. She was physically fine afterward, but I wasn’t.

Pills to help me relax was where it all began. And then pills to help bring me up. Pills to settle my nerves when things got overly stressful in my head. Mixing them with liquor when needed.

When we shared a room in Vegas, I didn’t trust myself to be near you in the night. I slept on the floor after drinking a glass of vodka from the minibar and swallowing a few pills. I did the same when we shared a room near Lake Powell. I knew my nightmares could put you in danger, and instead of telling you or anyone else the truth, I self-medicated, taking medication I was never prescribed, all depending on my mood.

When my regular supplier no longer had what I needed, I went off to find harder stuff. I’m ashamed to admit it, but that night when I took you to the motorcycle club? I was scoring drugs from a guy named Lion. I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is, yes, it’s the same Lion. The president of the MC, ex-husband of Alicia who came into your Center. He hooked me up.