The Long Way Home

by Roslyn Bane

Kris slowly lowered the sheet, and watched those white teeth flash again. The woman sat on the other side of the bed and leaned over. She kissed Kris softly, and whispered in her ear, “You’re beautiful.” Her lips were soft as they pressed to Kris and her hands stroked skillfully against her breasts, firm and full. Heat raced through Kris, her stomach quivered, and moisture gathered between her legs. Kris arched into the mouth that teased her breasts, as first one, then the other nipple was caught between sharp edged teeth and light pressure was applied. She writhed and opened her legs as fingers brushed lower seeking entry. They were quickly rocking together, their rhythm matching. Kris arched back as the tension built to peak.

  She heard someone moaning and sat up suddenly. Momentarily disoriented she looked around and heard the shower running, and Shelly’s off key singing in the shower. With a deep sigh she lay back down, and tried to will the deep ache in her sex away. “Where did that come from?”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  KRIS WAS STANDING AT the sink struggling to wash a few dishes when Shelly came in. “Hi.” She came up behind Kris, wrapped her arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck before quickly nipping her hard on the neck.

  “Ow! God Shelly, you can’t mark me like that! It’ll show when I’m in uniform.” She rubbed at her neck, and smelled the whiskey on Shelly’s breath. She’s been drinking again, be careful.

  “Relax, it wasn’t that hard. Besides your hair is long enough to cover it.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. God, you are so emotional lately.”

  “I am not…” Kris turned off the water and wiped her hand on a towel. “Forget it. I already put the leftovers in the fridge.”

  “You used to wait for me to get home.”

  “You used to call if you were going to be late. It’s after eight, so I ate.”

  “I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry. What did you eat?” She rummaged through the fridge, and pulled out a beer. She twisted off the cap, and drank greedily.

  “Baked ziti and some salad. It’s in the blue container.”

  Shelly pulled the bowl out, dumped some onto a plate, and put it in the microwave. She drank from the bottle again and wiped her mouth with her hand, “So how was your day?”

  “It was good. I had a counseling session today. I think it’ll help with the nightmares. And I went to the orthopedic clinic. The latest tests were negative. They can’t find what’s keeping it from moving. It doesn’t hurt. It’s like nothing is there. At least in therapy they are able to move it all the way. It’s so frustrating that they can’t find the problem. And I was able to see patients in the clinic today, so I was busy.”

  The microwave dinged, and Shelly pulled the plate out, set it on the table and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. “That’s good. Are you tired?” She started to eat.

  “No.” Kris lifted the beer, “Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead. Is that something you picked up over there?”

  “What?”

  “Drinking beer?”

  “No, Shelly. It’s against regulations. Drinking in a war zone is not recommended. I wanted a taste.” I don’t want you drinking more. You already smell like whiskey. “That’s not too bad. What is it?”

  “It’s called Smoky Mountain Porter. It has a nice flavor.”

  “It does. How did your day go?”

  “Eeh. The client didn’t like some of the ads, so I spent the day redesigning. It ran late and when he finally approved the designs a couple of us went out to celebrate.”

  “That’s nice. Build some camaraderie.”

  “I don’t know about that, but it sure was nice to have a drink or two.” She finished her dinner and pushed the plate away. “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” She kissed Kris on the cheek and walked to the door. “Can you clean up that mess?” Before Kris could answer Shelly left.

  Kris stared at the closed door, and then back to the plate on the table. With a sigh she washed the plate, and dumped out the rest of the beer. She went into her office, logged into the computer, and started to do the journaling exercise the psychologist had asked her to try. We’re in trouble. This isn’t working anymore. We’re avoiding each other. We don’t talk anymore, there’s no companionship. It’s not only my injuries either, although that’s a big part of it. She wants my breast fixed and can’t stand to look at me. Why doesn’t she understand that it’s not forever? I’ll get reconstruction as soon as I’m cleared for it. The more time that passes, the more irritated she gets. We text more than we talk. She’s working a lot, but something else is going on. I feel it. She glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. So much for twenty minutes.

  Kris saved the document and as an afterthought password protected it. She shut down the computer, turned on the outside light and locked the door. She took a long hot shower and enjoyed every moment of the warmth and the quiet. She finished up, reached out to grab her towel and dried off in the shower. She stepped out of the shower and jumped slightly when she saw Shelly leaning against the counter, naked.

  “I want you.”

  “Shell—” Kris was cut off as her mouth was crushed in a hot, aggressive kiss that tasted of whiskey and beer. Rough hands grabbed her ass and pulled her close, so they stood pelvis to pelvis. Shelly ground against her, and broke the kiss long enough to growl “Now. Right now.” She bit down hard on Kris’ lip as Kris tried to back away. Shelly advanced, pushed her against the wall and took her mouth again. Her wrists were tightly squeezed before being wrenched over her head, and her knees pushed were apart by Shelly’s leg. Shelly braceleted her wrists with one hand and lowered the other, thrusting it between Kris’ legs. She cupped her, “You’re not wet. Don’t worry I know how to get you there.”

  “Shelly, I don’t want to.”

  “You never want to anymore. You need to remember how much fun it is.”

  “Not like this, no.” She tried to pull her arms free to no avail. She gasped when Shelly pinched her sex hard and bit down on her shoulder. Shelly pulled back slightly and ripped the towel off of her, immediately stepped between her legs, and pushed herself against Kris. Kris started to struggle, she pushed forward and tried to pull her arms free. Her hands were jerked higher while her damaged breast was squeezed violently.

  “Shelly stop. It’s too rough.”

  Shelly let go of her arms but immediately grabbed her jaw, holding it tightly. “I know what you like, I know how to make you purr. I know how much you like to be dominated.” Her mouth was crushed again by a bruising kiss, strong hands grabbed her hips and jerked her forward and ground her against her thigh. Hard, rough fingers forced their way between them and stroked roughly. Shelly hissed in her ear, “That’s right baby, I know what you need. I can feel you getting wet. You like it rough, such a submissive little bitch.”

  The harsh words startled Kris and she jerked back, but Shelly continued her quick assault forcing her hand between Kris’ legs rubbing her vigorously. Fingers thrust suddenly inside her and she cried out in pain. Kris pushed her and had almost succeeded in pushing her away when Shelly suddenly pulled her forward with one arm, and then slammed her back against the wall. Her head bounced off the wall leaving her dazed. She was jerked forward again and violently shoved back, her head cracking loudly against the wall. Her vision started to fade, and her legs grew weak. Shelly yanked her by her left arm and pulled her to the bed.

  Shelly pushed Kris onto her back and covered her body. Shelly kept the pace frantic and rough as she slid down and quickly without delicacy, used her mouth. Kris cried out, “Shelly, stop. Don’t do this. Please, no.” Despite her protests, Kris felt her body tighten, and shuddered in response as her body betrayed her.

  Shelly moved up quickly and knelt above her. She pinned Kris’ hands down and jerked her head up to meet her sex. “Hurt me and you’ll be sorry bitch.” Her hair was yanked hard as Shelly ground down against her. With tears in her eyes, Kris used her mouth to bring Shel
ly to orgasm.

  Shelly pushed back away from her, and smiled wickedly at her. Shelly flipped her over, and bit her viciously on the back. Kris screamed and she sprang from the bed. Shelly threw a shirt at her, “Cover yourself up. I can’t stand to look at that mess. It looks like some science experience. Like Frankenstein. Frankentit. That’s what it is.”

  Kris recoiled, the final words stinging, and making everything worse. She stumbled into the bathroom, gasping for breath. Showering again, she stood in the shower dazed, letting the water fall on her throbbing head. Sinking to the floor, she cried and tried to figure out what the hell had happened. She stayed in the shower until the water grew cold. She stood slowly, her body aching and still trembling. Toweling off quickly she pulled on a nightshirt, and cautiously opened the door. Shelly was asleep, snoring lightly. Kris slipped into the guest room, turning the lock on the door as she closed it. She lay in bed, quietly shaking and wondered what she had done to make Shelly so mad. After several minutes she got up, pulled on a pair of shorts and quietly slipped outside.

  She paced back and forth, tears periodically streaming down her face. Good God, did that really happen? Did Shelly assault her? No. It couldn’t be assault. You can’t come if you’re assaulted. Can you? I should have fought back more. She rubbed the back of her head which was tender and bruised. I need to think.

  ***

  Kris lay on the examination table, the crinkly white paper barely protecting her from the coolness of the surface. She stared at the ceiling, waiting patiently for the exam to be over. Fortunately, the doctor’s hands were warm and gentle on her breast. “How’s the sensitivity?”

  “It varies. The scars are numb where the skin is puckered. The red is fading. Most of the graft has sensation, and the area that was undamaged feels okay most of the time. Sometimes it is really sensitive and it still occasionally swells.”

  “I’m done.” The doctor pulled the cape closed and helped Kris to sit up. “How often do you notice swelling?”

  “It seems like every four weeks or so.”

  “Is it at the same time as your cycle?”

  Kris looked at her and flushed slightly, “Hmm, yes, it is. How could I not realize that?”

  “Because you’ve been under a lot of stress. Because you’re healing. Maybe because you’re scared. That’s a lot of distraction. The good news is that the breast tissue that was undamaged is working like it should by responding to changes in your hormone levels. But you have to be more careful.”

  “Careful?”

  “Your breasts are bruised, both of them, especially the tissue that remains on the left.”

  Kris looked down but did not open the cape. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Several small bruises, worse on the left. You need to be careful, the skin graft is still maturing and the muscles underneath. That’s the tissue that is going to be stressed the most when we start the reconstruction process. Tell your partner to be gentle.”

  “I…ah…yes, I will.” Kris blushed furiously.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. The fact that you’re having sexual relations again is a good sign that you’re healing mentally. Intimacy is not always easy after a deployment. Add in the PTSD, and the injuries, and well, not all the reunions are happy. At least for a while. With some couples, the physical intimacy takes months, years in some cases.”

  “I didn’t realize it could take that long.”

  “For some couples, it can. Other than that you’re doing okay? You look tired. Are you sleeping well?”

  Kris was silent for several moments, remembering the assault the night before. How she paced the yard for hours before finally coming back inside to sleep in the guest room at three. She looked away before answering. “Yes, I had a breakthrough with Dr. Abbott the other day. She used hypnosis to help me. It’s only been a few days, but I remembered some of what happened around the time of my injury.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in about six weeks. If you have any problems, let me know right away.”

  “Yes ma’am.” After the physician left the room, Kris jumped up and jerked the cape off. Damn it! A series of irregular circles were on each breast, worse on the left especially along the damaged outside area on the skin graft. Irregular circles consistent with fingers. The only thing missing were the actual fingerprints. Kris dressed quickly and left, pausing momentarily to pick up the appointment card for her next visit.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  RENEE QUESTIONED KRIS. “TELL me why you’re not sleeping.”

  “I sleep, although it’s not very long. I keep having this dream where someone is screaming. The dreams all end the same, but the beginning is different. Last night I dreamed I was in a restaurant and had ordered dinner. As the waiter turned away there was a blood-curdling scream. I ran into the kitchen and saw blood everywhere, but no one was there. A few nights ago I dreamed I was at my parents’ house and heard a scream. In the dream, I run through their house trying to find out what’s going on but only see bloody footprints, barefoot prints on the floor. Night after night, I have this strange screaming nightmare.”

  “Are you screaming?”

  “No, it’s not me. It’s terrifying. Someone needs help, and I can’t find them.”

  “That must be unnerving.”

  “It is.”

  “How long have you been having dreams like this?”

  “A few weeks now. It started after I was in Bethesda for a few days. But it’s getting worse. Sometimes it’s happening twice a night. It’s such a realistic dream, and I’m starting to be afraid to sleep. There is always a horrifying scream.”

  “Any idea what or who is screaming?”

  Kris was silent. “No idea.” She looked away from the psychologist and focused her gaze on the window. “The scream sounds familiar, but I’ve had this dream so many times, of course, it would be familiar.”

  “That sounds reasonable.”

  “I wish it would stop.”

  “Well, I can give you a prescription to help you sleep, but I am hesitant to do so.”

  Kris shook her head, “I don’t want any pills.”

  “Good. Let’s see if we can’t figure out what this scream is about. How long were you in Afghanistan?”

  “Seven months. This was my second tour. My first tour was for a year.”

  “Any nightmares after that tour?”

  “Sure, I had some bad dreams but nothing like this.”

  “Why do you think you’re having them this time?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it must be cumulative. Seeing all those Marines and women get hurt. I think it must be getting to me.”

  “Did you see a lot of Marines?”

  “Mostly because that’s who we’re assigned to.”

  “But you see all service branches and allies. How many women have you seen?”

  “There’s been a few.”

  “How many would you say?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess. Some I would have treated directly. There would have been others I didn’t treat but saw in the hospital.”

  “You must have some idea,” Renee probed.

  “I really don’t.” Kris pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s not something you keep track of.”

  Renee pressed her with more questions. “How many male patients would you say?”

  “Hundreds. More.”

  “And females?”

  “I don’t know. Why do you keep asking that? I said I don’t know how many.” Kris stood up and walked away.

  “I ask because you said, ‘Seeing all those Marines and women get hurt.’ So, I’ll ask again, how many women do you think you’ve seen? Guess. Amuse me.”

  “Maybe one hundred.” Kris returned to her chair.

  “Do the women being hurt bother you?”

  “They don’t bother me. My job is to help people, that’s why I became a doctor. Some of them stick with you longer than others.”

&nbs
p; “Who is Major Davies?”

  Kris tensed, “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No. I don’t.” Kris brushed at her pants. Crossed and re-crossed her legs.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes…No…I can’t remember the names of everyone I may have treated.” Kris said with irritation.

  “Did you treat her?”

  Kris grit her teeth. “No.”

  “Are you sure? You said you couldn’t remember the names of everyone. Maybe you did and don’t remember.”

  “I’d remember her. She has short black hair and green eyes, a hint of gray at the edge.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “She’s a helicopter pilot, marine squadron.”

  “So you know her?”

  “No. I said I don’t. You’re confusing me.” Kris rubbed at her temple.

  “Commander, without looking at me, what color eyes do I have?”

  “Um…ah…blue.”

  “No, they’re brown. But that’s a good guess, going with the blonde hair. How do you know what color eyes Major Davies has?”

  Kris sprang up and paced, pushed at her hair, before pulling her left arm across her chest and holding it there squeezing it tightly with her right arm. “Why are you worried about her eye color? How would l know what color her eyes are? I’m sure you could find it in her medical record.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me what color her eyes are. I find it interesting that you would know that her eyes are green if you don’t know her. Green is not a common color. Why do you suppose you know the color of her eyes?”

  Kris was sweating. She sat down, stood up immediately, and paced some more. “It was a guess. A lucky guess.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “It was.” Kris tried to stop the trembling building through her body.

  “Kris, tell me the truth. How did you meet Major Davies?”

  “I don’t know,” Kris whispered.

  “Yes, you do. Tell me.”

  Kris stared at the psychologist, “I tell you I don’t know!” Her voice was frantic, almost pleading. What are you looking for? Why are you stuck on if I know this woman? I feel sick. I’m going to be sick.