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O’Kiell, Bart, and Rodger. All dead. None of them would be returning to their families. O’Kiell wouldn’t end up starting that bakery she always dreamed about. Bart wouldn’t be able to meet his new baby. Roger wouldn’t get to see his two kids again, and his wife would have to raise them alone.
BOOM
For the millionth time, pure self-hatred spiked through me for having survived when they had died. It wasn’t fucking fair. I was nothing but a warrior, and I would’ve died happily for my country. There wasn’t anything left for me besides that. But them? They all had so much waiting for them…
BOOM
Growling, I shoved the sandwich away from myself and stormed away from the table while my brain started to short circuit, vision blurring at the edges.
“Hey Ashton, you ok?”
I didn’t answer. I hurried away before the worst of it set in and I made a fucking fool of myself.
The closest private space was the bathroom, so I plunged in and dove into the corner as my breath turned choppy and the memories of that day settled in like deja vu.
In the dark coldness of the room, I was there again. The deafening BOOM, the scent of metal and gunpowder and blood drenching the air as we were overwhelmed… The bastard betrayed us all.
Chapter 4
Freya
“Freya?” came Angel’s frantic voice. “Freya! Where is Tommy?”
I jumped to my feet and found her at the door, her braless chest bouncing in her hurry.
“I’m not sure what’s going on with Ashton, but all of a sudden he was booking it out of the breakroom. He looked fucking terrified!”
My heart started to pump faster, wondering what a man like Ashton could possibly be terrified of. Was it PTSD?
“Where is he?” I asked, jogging after Angel who was already taking off.
“In the employee bathroom. I followed him out, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Where’s Tommy?”
“He’s working with a customer in the showroom,” I told her, putting my hand to the door.
For just a moment, I wondered if I should wait for Dad. I knew that PTSD could get dangerous, even for loved ones, but I couldn’t just let him sit there alone, knowing he was reliving a personal hell.
Opening the door, I entered the bathroom, only a slash of light in the darkness showing him cowered in the corner, his knees pulled up with his head between them as he panted.
The door closed behind me and plunged us both back into darkness.
“Ash,” I whispered, using Dad’s nickname for him as I slowly approached like he was a wild animal.
The closer I got, I could hear the tremor in his breath as he fought for each one.
“Don’t,” he breathed. “Just leave me alone.”
Yeah, no way.
Throwing caution to the wind because he seemed at least relatively coherent, I dropped to my knees and got as close as I could without climbing directly into his lap.
“You’re ok,” I whispered. “You’re not alone, Ash. I’m here, and Dad’s here, and you’re ok.”
His chest bounced in a soundless sob just as his fingers curled into my hair, pulling me closer. I went, letting him press me into his chest as it continued to bounce for several long, heartbreaking moments, and then he stilled.
Even though his sobs ended, he still held me tightly in the dark, and my heart fucking broke all over again. I didn’t know what to do to help him besides just keep holding on as something to ground him away from the memories.
So, with a lack of anything else to do, I hummed.
