AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Help? Help? Can you make it go away? Can you make it all stop? Stop the voices. Stop the voices. Stop the voices,” he cried.
“No. But I might be able to help you feel less pain,” said Trak. “I can help you to cope with what’s in your head. We’ve all done it.”
“Don’t hurt him!” yelled Nate, running toward them. Trak turned, a feeling of fear and panic in his chest for the first time in his life.
“Nate, I said wait in the car,” said Trak.
“Don’t hurt him, Grandpa. He’s just scared, right, mister?” The man stared at him, his eyes filling with tears. “Remember me? I sit with you every Saturday, and we feed your dog.”
“My dog is dead.”
“I’m s-sorry,” said Nate. “These men are my family. We only want to help you. Please, won’t you let us help you?”
“Why?” he sobbed. “Why? I’m broken! I’m broken!”
“We’re all broken,” said Clay. He pulled up his pant leg, revealing his prosthetic. “We’re all broken, but as whole as we can be for the version we are. You can be whole again. You just have to trust us.”
He seemed to be thinking it through, all the while sobbing, rocking back and forth.
“Please, mister. Please let them help you,” prompted Nate.
“Why do you care? Why? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can go live a life without nightmares. You’re just a kid!”
“I care because you’re important,” said Nate. “You’re here because you survived, and that means something. You’re meant to be here. You were meant to survive. Don’t turn your back on that gift.”
He let out a howl of pain that made all the men cringe. Dropping the knife, he sat back down on the bench, and Wilson kneeled before him again.
“We’re going to take you somewhere to get you help, okay?” He nodded as Wilson led him to the car. As he stepped into the backseat, he turned to Nate.
“I’m not sure whether to hate you or thank you. But for now, thank you at least for caring.”
Wilson and Ghost pulled away with the man. They would take him first to the VA hospital to see if they could help, although it was doubtful. If that weren’t a viable option, he would be placed in a private care facility, and RP would pay for it.
“That was foolish of you to approach him, Nate,” said Trak. “But I’m proud of you for what you did. I think you saved his life.”
In fact, Nate had saved his life.
After months in a private facility, getting the right treatment and medical care, Stu Pritchett rented a small apartment on River Road and got a job at the very garage where he was allowed to sit, day after day. Nate visited him often, and the men of Belle Fleur made sure he had what he needed.
Nate learned that his story was not unique. The question was whether or not he was prepared to potentially suffer the same fate. Realizing that his family would never allow him to get in such a state, he followed through on his plans.
He worked hard for weeks, months to become a superior soldier. His qualifying scores were some of the best ever, and when Delta came knocking, he was ready.
Nate Redhawk was Delta. Like his father, like his uncle, like his cousins, and brother, and as close to his grandfather as he could possibly be.
CHAPTER TWO
Harlow Judge stared at the room full of men, shaking beside her mother. She was just nineteen years old and being asked to do something so horrific, so terrible, she would never be the same again.
“I can’t do this, Mother. I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. We owe, your father and I, owe this man a great deal of money, and the only way we can repay it is by using you. Just do what they say, and you’ll be fine.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own child,” she whispered. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you for this.” Her mother gripped her arm, turning her toward the room.
“Now, you listen to me. You will put on that beautiful smile of yours that we paid thousands of dollars for. You will march those well-toned legs from dancing, the lessons and private tutors that we paid for, into that room. And you will be friendly with these men. You will smile, you will laugh, and by God, if they ask you to, you will spread your legs or get down on your knees. You won’t die, Harlow. It’s just fucking!”
Her mother could have slapped her for the same reaction. Pushing back the tears, she saw the angered look on Mr. Quinn’s face and shook her head.
