Freedom

by Faith Potts

  Freedom

  Freedom

  by Faith Potts

  Liberty’s Battlegrounds • Book One

  Copyright © 2019 by Faith Potts

  Cover Copyright © by Kaitlyn Krispense

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  To everyone lost to suicide, you are not forgotten.

  To everyone fighting the battle with suicide, your story isn’t over.

  To everyone who has lost a loved one to suicide, you’re not alone.

  Every life has purpose.

  Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.

  Galatians 5:1 KJV

  Prologue

  The ground shakes. The heat assaults me. The mangled body cries out. I move closer, closer, until I’m there beside him. Staring into his face, the eyes that used to sparkle and tease. Now they’re blank, blank eyes. And the blood. So much blood. Saturating him and me, splattering onto the desert floor beneath my knees.

  Barking. Whimpering. Intertwined with another explosion.

  I jerk my head up. Not the dog, too.

  Who’ll be next?

  I will.

  I’m next. I’ll be the next to die.

  Blown apart… Death is coming…

  I can feel it.

  The rush of panic, the swirl of confusion, the foreboding ache in my gut.

  I look up, then wish I hadn’t as another explosion rockets out of the sand. My world rocks, teetering on the brink, then spirals into chaos.

  I’m flying through the air, whirling into a nightmare of heat and agony. This is it. This is how it all will end.

  This is death.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  I jerk awake. Sitting up in bed, sheet clutched to my chest, gasping for air. Have to breathe… Have to… breathe…

  It’s just the dreams, the memories that haunt me. They control me. Stealing my peace. Capturing my mind. Sabotaging the ruined remains of my life.

  Only not forever, please no. I don’t know how much longer I can survive.

  A cry rises in my throat, and I mash my mouth shut, turning away from the light that creeps in around the door. I don’t want interference or pity, or even relief from the pain.

  Tonight, I only crave peace.

  Drawing the thin covering over my head, I cower and stuff my face into a pillow. My shoulders wrack and tremble.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper, but my voice sounds broken even to my own ears.

  Hollow. Lifeless. Worthless.

  Through a sheen of tears, I stare out the window at the city lights that sparkle across the expanse until they meet the stars.

  No desert landscape. No bloody bodies of comrades. No danger hidden in the darkness.

  Only the shame of my own mangled body.

  Freedom is a myth.

  Chapter One || Alex

  My heart pounds, blood pulsing through my temples. No, no, no… I race up the flights of stairs. Seeing as how I’m recovering from a cold, I’m getting winded quickly, but this is still faster than the elevator.

  Please, God, let me get there in time.

  The sign on the wall is a blur as I blow past. Did that say fourth floor? Three more flights. I can do this.

  As my feet gobble up the metal stair treads, the image I saw from the street below while leaving work flashes through my mind. I’m pulled back to the instant when my gaze was drawn to the heavens above and I saw a person at the top of the hospital parking deck. A man who, unless I’m sorely mistaken, looked ready to jump.

  Suicide.

  Oh, God, no.

  With an adrenaline-charged burst of energy, I thunder up the last flight of stairs and top out on the parking deck’s uppermost level.

  My gaze bounces first to my right, then to my left. I don’t see anyone. There’s only a scattering of cars—it would be hard to miss him. Please, please, be here.

  Through the early January chill, I hustle along the concrete perimeter until I come to the side which overlooks the front parking area. A figure comes into view, a few yards ahead.

  There he is.

  Careful not to make any loud or sudden noise and startle him into going over the edge unintentionally, I draw closer to the spot where the uniformed young man stands, a backpack on the ground next to him.

  Studying him, I wince when I see that he’s missing two limbs. I glance away, struggling to steady my breath. A leg and arm? Really, God?

  I suck in a deep breath, preparing to make my presence known… praying he won’t go through with it. Praying I can make a difference in the outcome of this night.

  “Don’t do this.”

  He flinches at the sound of my voice, wobbling precariously from his position overlooking the city.

  I force a deep breath and wipe sweaty palms down the sides of my pants. This is a delicate situation, and I have to handle it just right. There will be no second chance if he stumbles—even accidentally—another time.

  “I don’t know who you are,” the man growls, his voice deep, masculine, and aggravated. “But I don’t want you here. Get away unless you want to watch me jump.”

  Maybe he does have some spark left after all. I’ll have to feel him out carefully without pushing too far.

  “You don’t want me here?” I take another step toward him, squinting in the glow of the streetlight to recognize the darker coloring of his Marine Corps uniform. “Selfish, aren’t you?”

  No verbal reply comes at first, but I see his back tense and stiffen. “I have every right to be selfish.”

  “Oh, do you?” Eyeing him to be sure he won’t catch me in the act, I slip my phone from my pocket.

  He snorts, annoyed. “Have you gotten a good look at me?”

  “I have,” I reply, thumbing through my phone to find my brother’s number. “But no earthly circumstance or misfortune gives you the right to take your own life.”

  He doesn’t speak and I forge ahead. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re only thinking of yourself. Not me—who has to helplessly watch as you fall to your death, not the innocent person who’ll find your body down there in the alley. Not even your poor family who would never get over such a tragic loss.”

  I leave him to mull over my words and type a frantic message into the smartphone I hold. Thanks to my trembling fingers, I backspace the entire thing twice before getting out what I want to say.

  9:27 PM — Alex: At the top of parking deck with a Marine who’s threatening to jump. Please come

  Another tap, and the message will appear on my doctor brother’s screen in seconds. Times like these, modern technology is such a blessing.

  Checking to be sure it’s on vibrate, I clench the phone like a lifeline and return my gaze to the man a few yards ahead of me.

  “You know, I feel like Jack Dawson.”

  “Who?” he mutters. At least he is paying some attention to what I say, but I cringe as he again leans forward and peers down seventy feet.

  “You don’t know who Jack Dawson is?” I exclaim. “Have you never seen Titanic?”

  “Oh… Yeah.” He straightens back up and even takes a staggered step back from the edge, leaning heavily on the crutch under his remaining arm. “I thought it was sappiest love story ever. A complete retard must have written the script.”

  If things weren’t so serious, I would smirk at his drawling tone. “Well, it was pretty sappy. But Jack talked Rose out of doing it.”

  “Maybe it would’ve been better if she had jumped.”

  My heart pounds. Oh, Lord, give m
e the right words to say… “Wh-why would you think that?”

  “Because her life had no purpose.”

  I clench my jaw so tightly my teeth hurt. The words are achingly familiar.

  “No one really cared about her. Her mother was just using her to get what she wanted. Her fiancé was a jerk. Who can blame her for wanting to end it all? I mean, it was her life. Her choice.”

  Sick over his words, I scour my mind for something to say. But nothing comes.

  My phone buzzes in my hand.

  9:29 PM — Kellon: On my way, sis

  I lift my eyes from the screen and tuck the phone into my back pocket. I just need to keep him distracted for a few more minutes. Big brother will know how to talk him down from here.

  “You heard what I said, right?”

  He shrugs. “You said you felt like Jack Dawson. I guess now you’re gonna start telling me how important I am and that my life has value and all that trash.”

  I wince. That’s exactly what I was gonna say, but now I worry how I’ll convince him of the validity of the truths.

  “I’m sick of the fake cheerful people. Live through what I’ve lived through, see what I’ve seen, and then maybe you’ll be qualified to sell me your quick-fix tips.”

  My chest heaves, aching for his pain. I can’t help noticing how his voice breaks when he speaks of all he’s been through. He’s sacrificed so much… And it’s broke him. He deserves better than this.

  “Listen, uh…what’s your name?”

  He doesn’t answer for a moment, then speaks bitterly. “If you really want to know, go inside, wait a few minutes, and then go check the dog tags of the body on that green SUV down there.”

  Bile rises in my throat. It sounds like a threat, but I can’t take the chance. God, help me… Don’t let him…

  I slowly begin walking forward, cringing as my shoes grind loose gravel. Despite my best efforts to quietly move closer to him, he hears me and whirls around.

  Seeing his face for the first time, I’m startled by how young he is—probably only a couple years older than my own twenty-four. But his eyes are dark and hollow, his face gaunt and tired, like he’s seen death and destruction. Pain and chaos.

  Like he’s seen war. Like his life is war.

  “Take another step and I’m going over backwards,” he threatens, leaning back against the waist-high cement wall that borders the deck.

  “Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll stop. Just… listen to what I have to say. Please?”

  With panicked eyes, he watches me warily, not agreeing or disagreeing.

  No time to spare—I have to take the risk that he means it or lose the chance to reach out to him. I twist my hands before me, arranging sentences in my mind. “Do you know Jesus?”

  “Not to be disrespectful, ma’am, but I’m not sure I believe all that.” He sinks to the cement barrier, the single crutch clattering to the gravel. I notice the way his whole, remaining arm shakes as he presses his palm to the wall he now sits on, steadying his dangerous position. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you would get out of here. I’d like a few minutes alone before—”

  “Before you kill yourself?” I offer, pinning him with an accusing glare. “Giving up? Isn’t that the coward’s way out?”

  He meets my eyes for a second, before turning to look down at the parking lot below him. It wouldn’t take much more than a strong wind to send him over the edge now. And he seems to have no fear of it as he stares down with an unreadable expression.

  I can feel myself beginning to tremble. Kellon still isn’t here, and I’m getting desperate. Can’t panic… have to focus… I force a couple of deep breaths in an effort to regain control, and I take another step toward the serviceman. “Please don’t do this…”

  He pulls his gaze from the parking lot and looks down to his lap, one leg leading to a booted foot that rests below him and the other ending in a stump above his knee. “It’s my life, and it should be my decision how it ends.”

  I forcibly shake my head. “But you’ve sacrificed so much for our country. You deserve more than… than this. Listen, my aunt and uncle have a ministry that helps wounded and recovering service members get back on their feet, find employment and housing, and decide what they want to do next.” By now I’m rambling, but maybe some of this is getting through to him. “I’m sure they would love to help you. You could even just stay with them for a few days, give yourself some time to think and figure things out, and then—”

  His head jerks up, eyes sharp, and he cuts me off. “I asked you to leave. If you aren’t gone in another minute, you’ll wish—”

  Pounding footsteps echo through the night, rippling the silence in our deserted corner of the world. The quiet returns just as Kellon appears at the top of the stairs, white coat flapping.

  The Marine glances suspiciously between us, shoulder slumping further—if that’s possible. “Called for reinforcements, huh?”

  My older brother comes to my side, his gaze on the man a few yards ahead of us. “Hello, sir.”

  “Doctor.” He dips his head briefly. “How about doing me a favor and getting this bossy female off my back?”

  Kellon glances my way, his wide eyes asking what on earth I did or said before his arrival.

  I shrug, returning my gaze to the man ahead of us. “Help him, Kell,” I whisper, my voice wobbly. “You’re so much better with words than I am. I’m afraid he was really going to jump before you came around the corner.”

  He nods, running his hands through his spiked hair. “Pray for us,” he mutters, stepping away from me and toward the suicidal young man.

  “Corporal Greene.” Kellon holds out his hand to the Marine. Why didn’t I think to look to his uniform for rank and a surname? I squint in the faint lighting. Not sure I could see it from here, anyway.

  Greene glances down at the offered hand and just shakes his head. “You might be selling the do-gooder act, but I’m not buying. I’ve had my fill of doctors—” he cuts his eyes in my direction “—and hypocrites.”

  His words are intended to sting, aimed to hurt, meant to send us away. And yet his hand shakes…his voice is unsteady… Maybe he believes—or wants to believe—more than he’s letting on. Soften his heart, Lord.

  “Um…okay.”

  Obviously not the reply Kellon was expecting.

  I take a step in his footsteps. “We only want to help. Is that so hard to believe?”

  The man ignores both of us and resumes staring down from his precarious perch. The lifelessness in his eyes breaks out a cold sweat across my body. But I note the slightest trace of fear now, in his gaze, his stance. A sliver of curiosity, of a desire for something more.

  “I…we,” Kellon begins again. “Your life is valuable. God has a purpose for you, or Alex wouldn’t have been around to stop you a little while ago.”

  The corporal shakes his head again, this time more in muddled confusion than denial. “You don’t understand what it’s like…to be so helpless and worthless.”

  Kellon, now only a few feet from him, turns to look at me. What are we to say to that?

  “You’re right; I don’t understand,” my brother speaks, his voice strong and sure. “I haven’t been in your shoes.”

  Shoe, my warped mind corrects him. And I cringe.

  “But I know Someone who does understand what you’re going through, Corporal. He’s been where you are, and He feels your hurt, because you’re His child. He’ll sustain you and go with you through every trial of life, if you’ll only let Him in. He’s my Savior, and His name is Jesus Christ.”

  All is silent, so silent that I shiver in the stillness. I’m praying and praying hard that Kellon’s words will pierce the hardness surrounding this Marine’s broken heart.

  “It’s James.”

  The two words crack the silence, and I lift my head. His name. Kellon winks at me over his shoulder. Hashtag progress.

  “Nice to meet you, James. I’m Kellon and this is
Alex.” The introductions are made, but ignored.

  My brother creeps a couple steps closer to this man—James—and I follow, inching along.

  “I just don’t know,” James murmurs, eyes averted. “I tried reading a Bible that was in my hospital room. I guess becoming someone you never thought you’d be makes you do things you said you would never do. But… I just couldn’t make the connection. This Jesus wasn’t even mentioned.”

  Kellon frowns. “Where in the Bible did you start reading?”

  “The beginning,” James replies, as if that’s the only logical answer.

  “Well, assuming you didn’t get very far—”

  “About five pages.”

  “—that’s probably why you didn’t find Jesus. He comes on the scene in the New Testament, over halfway through.”

  “Figures.”

  All is quiet for a moment. Kellon looks off to his left as if searching for words, for a way to get through to him.

  James speaks up, his question soft, sheepish, almost self-conscious. “I don’t get it. So He just…?”

  “Came to earth to save us,” Kellon fills in. “To redeem us, and mend us, and forgive our sins. Ugly, sinsick humanity needed a Savior, and God the Father sent us One.”

  “I have to admit, I’ve never heard it put that way before.” But then, just as suddenly, James shakes his head. “No. It’s ridiculous to even imagine.” He speaks the words as one would speak to themselves. “I’m too broken to be fixed.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘too broken,’” Kellon says gently. “Nothing we do can cause Him to change His mind about us. No matter how broken we become by this life and all the heartache and strife it brings, He will always love us. Always want to redeem sinners’ hearts.”

  Kellon’s words pierce through, chipping away the shell of disbelief from this wounded warrior’s heart. James drops his chin to his chest and his shoulders begin to shake, caving forward.