Steel Rain: A Military Romance Collection

by A. Gorman

  “I mean it, Evie, don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything. The local VA will be there for you too.”

  “Thank you, Grace.” I stood and get into the car like an older person would. Next stop, the airport…then I’d be home.

  Chapter Three

  Everything was exactly as I left it the last time I was here two years ago. The beige walls, along with flowers and balloons people have sent here for the well wishes, greeted me as I entered the room I lived in for nineteen years of my life. Ribbons and trophies from track still shined brightly on the shelves where I placed them many years ago. Pictures from high school graduation and basic training sat on my dresser, and I limped to the dresser to pick up the picture of Amelia and me.

  Two girls stared back. We were so naïve, so unprepared for what the world was going to throw at us. We did the best we could, and I wished we could have both made it out alive. The void in my heart caused by her and Jeremy’s death wouldn’t be filled anytime soon.

  You could be with them. There’s a loaded gun in your parents’ room. You won’t be in pain anymore. The voice in my head tried to take over, begged me to end my life. I wouldn’t be a burden to my parents if I would do it, end it all.

  I clutched the picture in my tight in my hand and hobbled over to my bed, and unceremoniously fall on top of the comforter. As I closed my eyes, I placed the picture on my heart and begged the voices not to haunt me here as I felt myself falling asleep. I dreamed of my parents’ life without me—suicide wasn’t an option—I couldn’t break them like that.

  The sound of voices outside of my room woke me, followed by a soft knock on the door.

  “Evie, you have company.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “If you’re not ready for visitors, I can ask them to come back later.”

  “It’s okay. Give me a few minutes to freshen up,” I called out through the door.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No, Mom, I can get up on my own.”

  I rubbed my eyes and roll out of bed, hobbling to my bathroom, and I reached for the light switch, turning it on. The mirror over the sink reflected a person unknown to me, a broken woman that was lost. I closed my eyes and rinsed my face off with cold water, hoping to pull my mind from what I saw in the mirror.

  The walk out to the living room was a struggle, and I wish I had told my mom I wasn’t ready for company. My leg was stiff and it didn’t want to work, and it made me second-guess walking without a cane. As I entered the space, I tripped over a rug, and my dad quickly caught me before I did a nosedive into the floor.

  Embarrassment flamed in my cheeks as I felt them heat up.

  “Are you okay, Eves?” Worry etched my father’s face.

  “Yes, my leg didn’t want to work,” I murmured.

  “Positive,” he asked, worry still lingered on his face.

  “Yes, Dad. You can let go of me. I’m all right.” He released me and I hobbled over to the couch.

  “Evelynn, are you sure you’re okay,” my grandma Doris asked.

  “Yes, Nana, I’m okay.”

  “Good, I need to hug you to make sure.”

  She got out of the lady chair, walking over to sit next to me on the couch, and pulled me into her. The familiar scent of comfort embraced me, and I’m glad that I didn’t turn away my visitors. I knew a hug from Grandpa Wayne would be next, and I’ve never been so relieved to be home. Their hugs made me feel…safe.

  ***

  Sleep was a curse and a blessing in one. I was exhausted because I wasn’t sleeping much, and sleep only came when I was beyond exhaustion. The only time the voices were quiet. I tried to sleep as much as I could. Three days a week, I had physical therapy with Cheryl, and she was the only communication I had with the outside world. Her coming to the house was a blessing. I don’t think I could go into town yet.

  Family and friends would stop in to see me, but they asked questions I didn’t want to answer or know how to answer. Once the newest of me being home wore off, they stopped coming around, which was fine with me. Being around people was awkward because they didn’t know what to say…or felt uncomfortable because I wasn’t the same person they used to know.

  I was in the living room after therapy and that’s when my mom cornered me. I had nowhere to go, and she knew she I was cornered.

  “How did therapy go?”

  “It went okay. I’m starting to get stronger in my right leg.”

  “That’s good to hear. How are you holding up?” Mom looked at me, and she looks tired and older than she normally did.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I bit out.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to talk or anything?” She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

  “I don’t need to talk,” I told my mom for the hundredth time since I’ve been home.

  “I know, Evie, that’s what you’ve been telling us since you arrived almost a month ago. You barely talk to your physical therapist or us. What I’m saying is there are people trained to help you so you don’t have to fight this alone,” she stated as she sat across from me on the couch.

  “I know. I appreciate that you think that way, but going it alone would be better. That way I don’t too attached to something only to be disappointed it got tired or more, leaves, or as my luck has it, dies,” I bluntly stated.

  “Evie!” Horror painted her face as it turned ashen.

  “Well, Mom, it’s true. Brian left me when I joined the Army. The two people I was close to died, and the only guy I semi had feelings for died that day too… I’m cursed and scared. What guy would want me? I’m a mess, emotionally and physically.”

  “Evelynn, that’s enough. I know we are supposed be gentle with you, and we do try to be. We love you and thank God you’re alive every day, but you need to talk to someone…anyone. Grace put a list with phone numbers of therapists here in town. I’ll find it for you, please talk to someone if you don’t want to talk to us. I thought I lost you that day and I’ll be damned if I lose you to your thoughts.”

  “I’m fine,” I gritted out.

  “No, you’re not. You need to talk to someone understand your feelings, your emotions.”

  “Ha, ha. No one can help me what.” I shook my head as I pictured myself lying on a couch in a shrink’s office.

  “If you think that way, then that’s how it will be,” she murmured as she got up and left the room.

  I nodded my head because I didn’t know what else I could say to her. Maybe she was right; maybe I did need to talk to someone.

  My mother returned shortly and had a paper in her hand.

  “Do you want me to call?”

  “Yes, see who can get me in first.”

  “Okay. I’ll go to the office to make the calls.”

  “Thank you, Mom. Even though I don’t say it enough, thank you.”

  “Anything for you, darling. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the room before I could change my mind about the appointment.

  I laid my head back against the back of the chair and closed my eyes. Moments or minutes went by and I heard someone coming toward me, and I opened my eyes to see who was coming into the room.

  “Evie? I called and got you an appointment for now. I’ll drive you.”

  “Seriously?” How did she get me in so quickly?

  “Yes, it’s in town with Dr. Judd. He was number two on the list and said to get there when we could.”

  “Okay.” I put down the footrest on the recliner I was in and got up. My body ached from the therapy, but I was much stronger than I was a month ago.

  “Dad’s truck okay or do we need to take my car?”

  “The truck is fine.”

  “Good, it’s in the garage. Let me tell Dad where we’re going and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sounds good.” I made my way out to the garage and try to hop up on the seat like I used to, but that’s not what happened. I caught myself as my ass almost landed har
d on the concrete floor of the garage. I used the step and pulled myself back up to standing, then used it to hoist myself up into the cab. Another thing I couldn’t do like I used to be able to.

  The “used to”s were starting to add up. Was it worth living?

  Chapter Four

  We pulled into a small paved parking lot beside a yellow house with a large wooden sign by the door that read, Dr. Will Judd, MD. Mom parked the truck closest spot to the door. My hands were sweating, my heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and my breathing started to become short and fast. I was starting to hyperventilate.

  On top of all the physical stress, the voice was in my head and trying to talk. You don’t need this man’s bullshit, Evie. We can end this all very easily. All of the pain can go away.

  I refused to end my life—I couldn’t do that to my family, especially my parents, but I was so afraid that there’s something permanently wrong with me. What if this doctor couldn’t fix me? What if I would have to live with the voice, all the voices, in my head for the rest of my life? Maybe I shouldn’t count suicide completely out… I shook my head, trying to calm myself and clear my head.

  We get out of the truck and we walked through the entryway that a heavy wooden door covered, and I take a seat as my mom checked me in at the desk. The moments seemed to drag on as my mind started to play the events of the wreck repeatedly. My whole body trembled as Amelia’s screams ripped through my ears.

  “Evelynn Gervais?” an older man said as he stood by an open door. I didn’t hear him as I was lost in my mind.

  “Evie. That’s you,” my mom said as she placed her hand on my thigh.

  “Ahh! Brace for impact. We’re under attack,” I yelled out.

  “Evie, sweetie, you’re safe,” my mom softly stated, pulling me back to the present.

  “Mrs. Gervais, does this happen frequently,” the older man asked.

  “No, this is the first time I’ve witnessed this, but she does keep us at an arm’s length.”

  “I see. Evelynn, come with me please. I’m Dr. Judd and I just want to talk to you for a bit.”

  “Are you sure we’re okay?” I looked around, trying to place where I was.

  “Yes, you’re safe here.” The man’s features softened.

  “Okay, sir.” I pushed myself out of the chair and followed the man back into his office.

  “Take a seat anywhere that’s comfortable for you, Evelynn. Is it okay that I call you Evelynn,” he asked as he sat in a black leather armchair off to the side of his desk.

  “Evie is what everyone calls me, which is fine,” I stated as I sat across from him in a similar chair.

  “Okay, Evie. Do you experience episodes like that often?” He pulled out a notepad and started jotting down notes.

  I laughed to myself. “It’s more like when don’t I, sir. The voices won’t shut—” I quickly covered my mouth. I didn’t want him to think I was crazy.

  “Care to tell me what the voices are saying,” he softly asked.

  “Um…” What the hell was I supposed to say? One wanted me dead and the others made me lose my mind.

  “Evie, I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help you. I want you comfortable with me so let me tell you a little about me. I was in the Army for twenty years, where I became a doctor. After retiring, I went back to receive specialized training in the diagnosis and treatment of mental health. I’m divorced with two boys who are probably close to your age. I live here so I’m always available to you…”

  I took a deep breath and played with my fingernails, or lack thereof. The nails were nubs. “I’m an only child and was in the Army for almost ten years. I have a BS in Journalism from Webster University. I don’t have a boyfriend. I have a house in South Carolina as well. I really miss being there, but I don’t think I can be alone yet.”

  “Are you having problems getting around?”

  “No, physical therapy is going well. Cheryl, my therapist, is perfect. She comes to my parents’ ranch three days a week and we work out.”

  “So what makes you think you can’t be alone.”

  “I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy…”

  “Using your word crazy…if you don’t talk about it, you will drive yourself crazy.” Dr. Judd didn’t sugarcoat shit. He was blunt and that’s exactly what I needed to hear.

  “I hear Amelia and Jeremy’s voices from the Humvee wreck and they won’t leave me. Then I have this voice that tells me I could end the voices and pain. I could kill myself.”

  “Do you want to,” he calmly asked.

  “No, I never give the voice a second though. It’s starting to wear on me though. What if you can’t fix me? What if these voices never leave me? I don’t know if it’s worth living with this constant battle in my head. I don’t know what to do to make it stop. Can you make it stop? Please tell me you can.”

  “I have a few more questions and let’s go over a few more things. It will help me get a better understanding of what you have going on. I have a good idea, but let me cover everything first.”

  “Okay.”

  “How much do you sleep…”

  He fired one question after another. I didn’t know if he would ever stop asking questions. I tried my best not to hold anything back, because I wanted to be somewhat normal again. The questioning ended, and Dr. Judd went quiet while he looked over his notes. He looked up at me.

  “You have PTSD, Evie,” Dr. Judd stated somberly.

  “I…what?”

  “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It happens to almost eight percent of Americans…and with you being a woman and a veteran you’re more likely to experience it.”

  “I never thought I’d be one to come home with a disorder from doing my job, doing what I wanted to do with my life…”

  “You also experienced a lot of events the average person’s not subjected to. You had a traumatic life altering experience, one that will be with you forever, but we can get you through this.”

  “How? I don’t even know how to talk about it. Sounds, smells, even words put me back in the Humvee, tossing around like clothes in a dryer. The screaming in my head paralyzes me and makes me act like I’m not in my right mind—wait—I’m not, am I?” Shock began to overtake my body. I was really fucked up.

  “You are, Evie. You just need to train your brain to think differently. I think we’ll start with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy, and I’m going to start you on an anti-depressant. You’re depressed on top of trying to deal with everything going on in your head.”

  “I don’t think I’m depressed. I’m just tired.”

  “If the medication doesn’t help you with the tiredness, then we’ll try something else. Okay?”

  “I can go with that.”

  “I’m not just putting on medication because I can; I’m doing it because I know it will help you. After doing a few tours in Desert Storm and returning to practice, the increase in PSTD cases with depression was up. Veterans were being overlooked and missed out getting the care they needed or still need. I’m glad you’re here getting the help you need. All I ask is for you to be open with me. If you feel worse, call me. If you feel suicidal, call me. If at any time you feel like you’re going to lose it, call me. I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Judd. I appreciate you being here for me.”

  “Anytime, Evie. Now let’s set up our schedule. This will be intense when we start. Three days a week for the first month and then I’ll re-evaluate.”

  “My schedule is open.”

  “Great. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Four in the afternoon. Does that sound okay?”

  “Yes, that works.”

  “I’ll put you down then. We’ll start tomorrow.” He gets out a smaller pad of paper and scribbles something down then hands me the paper. “Fill this and start taking it tonight. It should help you sleep better.”

  “Will do,” I stated as I looked at the paper. I hoped he was right about this he
lping me sleep.

  Chapter Five

  The changes over the month had been subtle, but I was starting to see some of my old self returning—the Evie that people were used to seeing. I knew I wouldn’t be the same person as before, I hoped I would be even better, and I understood that therapy and meds weren’t going to be a complete fix all. Since I’ve been in therapy, I can pull myself from the memories, and having that ability made me feel hopeful that I could be fixed. However, I was a little afraid of those periods of darkness.

  Sitting down in a seat that had become very familiar over the past four weeks, I wait for Dr. Judd to start our session.

  “Hello, Evie. How are you doing today,” he questioned, sitting behind his desk. This seating arrangement was new.

  “I’m doing well. It’s been a good day.” I smiled genuinely for the first time in a while.

  “Good to hear. Any episodes over the weekend?”

  “I had one, but I didn’t break out in a full blown panic attack. However, the dark voice tried to make an appearance.”

  “Did you want to give into the voice?” His eye pierced mine.

  “No, sir. I want nothing to do with that voice, but I’ll admit I’m afraid of that voice. It makes me feel lonely, even though I’m not.”

  “You’re right about that—you’re not alone. You have your parents, friends, family, and me that are here for you.”

  “That’s what I remind myself of when the darkness tries to creep in, but it hits me suddenly…”

  “Have you thought about getting a service dog?”

  “My parents have begged me to look into it, but I can’t take care of myself, let alone a dog.”

  “A service dog isn’t a pet. They are specially trained in helping with many jobs including helping mitigate PTSD challenges. Having a service dog could return your confidence and allow you regain your independence.”