by Adams, F. G.
“You deserve more, you low-life son of a bitch,” I sneer and slam the weightless head forward.
Beauty’s head hangs from the punishment when Grayson approaches.
“Now who’s winning, motherfucker? Where’s Mustafa’s headquarters?” he demands.
“I’ll never tell you,” Beauty promises.
“You will by the time we’re finished,” I guarantee.
Several hours later, the intel we needed to finish our mission is complete, and we are ready to get back to the base and the women. Doc has been updating us on and off, but I need to see with my own eyes how Savannah is doing.
“Styx,” Grayson orders, “set the charges.”
“With pleasure, Captain sir.” I salute, pivot, and exit the dreary prison confines.
Blowing shit up will be the second-best thing that’s happened today.
I hand over the detonator to Grayson and patiently wait for the boom.
Life’s good. I’m on the way to hold my woman.
Chapter 9
There’s a fine line between love and hate, and the gray areas blur the truth hiding within me ~ Savannah Bushard
Florida in September is invigorating. There’s a refreshing atmosphere in the little town south of the Alabama state line called Lakeview. It’s where Styx brought me after I went home to Texas and realized I couldn’t live there anymore. I needed a fresh start somewhere else—a new beginning.
Especially after I ran into the ex when Styx and I were coming out of the grocery store. I thought I was going to lose my shit all over again when he walked up and introduced his pregnant wife to me. And then, after telling me about his other two children, proceeded to ask me how I was and what I’d been up to? Mother Fucking Asshole. I couldn’t believe the nerve.
However, Styx was very calm when he introduced himself. A fierce storm that moves in fast and hard and catches you unawares. As they shook hands, Styx leaned in and whispered something. If I were to guess, I’d say his disapproval of the encounter. Asswipe squirmed and tried to get away, but Styx’s strength and piercing eyes were relentless in getting his point across. When Styx finally let go, the mother fucker turned tail and got out of there as fast as he could, dragging his waddling wife.
Styx’s calm façade faded away when the couple left. The sight of his tightened jaw and blood pumping in the veins on his neck, waiting to burst as he watched them scurry away, encouraged the move. The straw that broke the camel’s back.
So, here we are now. In this small coastal town.
It doesn’t hurt that Ella and Grayson moved back and are living really close by, too. They’re expecting a child. Ella’s asked me to be the godmother. I wanted to argue with her, scream and yell. How could she choose me for such an important role? Of course, I gave in to her, because she’s my best friend. I could never say no to her.
Ninety percent of the time, I’m a hot mess inside and out. At times, I don’t understand how anyone can stand to be around me. I can’t even stand myself sometimes. The demons I’m battling every single day I wake up are waging war against my psyche. I have good days and bad days. On the days I win, I seal the unwanted emotions back in the box. Just like everyone else.
Truth be told, I’m furious. Not only from the fact I’ve been dealt a raw deal on so many levels, but I can’t seem to find my happy place. The one forged out of blood, sweat, and tears years ago.
My exit strategy from the military did not happen as I planned or hoped. Another major life disappointment. Honorable discharge, check. Long career and retire after twenty years of service, nope. Far from it. All cut short because some crazy-ass tyrant sought revenge.
Yes, it irks me and I’m outraged by the situation. It is what it is. Can I change it? No. Will I survive? You bet your sweet ass I will. I’m as tough as nails.
“Blondie, your appointment is in an hour. You ready?”
Damn.
Six months of healing, and I’m still at square one according to the Army’s special therapist I have been forced to visit on a weekly basis until Styx intervened. She was a relentless bitch of a woman who asked way too many questions.
I’m fine. I don’t need to rehash the shit storm that went down in Afghanistan. It’s in the past, where I want to keep it. I’ve read all the books, listened to videos. I get it, really. It’s not my fault. But I’m still angry. Being a nurse in the Army, I witnessed many soldiers go through a trauma and recover just great.
During the final visit I had with the psycho-therapist, Styx lost his ever-loving shit. The woman was combative to a point that had us questioning her professionalism and sanity. He found a new Army-approved psychologist. Today is the first session.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I yawn and stretch my waking limbs.
“Remember what I told you. She isn’t the norm,” he promises, bending down to kiss my cheek.
“Sure, she isn’t.”
His eyebrow arches at my antagonistic tone.
“Are you questioning my good intentions to find someone for my woman, or are you worried about walking into the same situation you were in before with the kook therapist?”
“Neither. I just don’t feel like I need to see a fucking psychologist. It’s a waste of time and effort. I’m fine.”
“Uh huh, right. So last night when you woke up screaming ‘Stop! Please don’t hurt me!’ and beating the shit outta me, you were just fine, huh? Right as rain.”
“Well, color me stupid. Jesus, I hate it when you act so condescending. Ugh,” I snarl in frustration at his reminder. “It was just a damn dream!”
“C’mon, Vanna, we both know you ain’t okay. You’re a long way from being o-fuckin-kay. You need help, whether you wanna believe it or not. And that’s what I’m doing. Getting you fucking help!”
“What? Fuck you, Styx. I can’t believe you just said that! Why are you being so mean to me? What did I ever do to you?”
“Baby.” He shakes his head, disappointment lacing his tone. “This ain’t me being mean. I promise you, you’ll never be privy to that side. This is just me, helping my stubborn-ass woman. Up and at ‘em, sweet cheeks. Get your ass up outta bed, dressed, and in the car by zero nine hundred, or we’ll be late. And your ass will be the one paying for it later.”
He hands me a piping-hot cup of coffee and leaves. I hear water running and realize he’s taking a shower first. I sip the hot beverage slowly, dreading the upcoming meeting. Why he believes this new shrink can help me is beyond me. I just want to forget and move on.
I don’t want to relive the mistake of letting my guard down. The feeling of something pulling me under the water where I can’t breathe, screaming for the person right in front of me to help pull me to safety, only to become fully aware I’m awake and it’s really happening.
“Why’s your fine ass still lying in bed?” Styx’s gruff tone jolts me back to the here and now. He’s standing there dripping wet with a white towel wrapped around his torso, covering up all that fineness I love to adore.
“God bless it. Don’t you look finer than a frog hair split four ways. I was finishing my coffee. Thank ya very much,” I say and throw the covers to the side, attempting to lighten the air from earlier. “Did ya leave me any hot water?”
He stops me when I approach, and his fingers weave into my shoulder-length hair. Its length hasn’t been cut since we returned from overseas. Subconsciously, the true reason hasn’t been dealt with, because I haven’t come to terms with my feelings for Styx. My mind and heart both crave his nearness. He’s not only my rock and keeps me grounded, he’s so much more.
“I understand your reservations. Just promise me you’ll give her a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Yeah, Styx. I’ll keep an open mind. Gonna go grab a quick shower. I’ll meet ya downstairs.”
“I’ll have ya a to-go cup ready.”
Chapter 10
I wear a mask to cover the broken and confused emotions attempting to escape the dark prison I’ve e
nclosed them in.
~ Savannah Bushard
“Hello, Savannah. How’s the week treating you so far? Did you get some rest using the exercises I told you about last week?” Jocelyn smiles.
“I’ve slept a little bit longer each night, but I…” I hesitate when my breath hitches.
I’m sitting in Jocelyn Fontneau’s office. The woman staring back at me with slight concern is coaxing me to channel my unspoken fears with her understanding and kindness. This is how it’s been twice a week for a month now.
“Take it slow, Savannah. There’s no rush,” she comments in a sing-song voice that soothes and comforts me.
“It’s the fear.” I squeeze my hands together. “I can’t…I can’t breathe, and I’m choking. Someone’s choking me. The blackness is almost…I’m suffocating, but it’s like I’m watching it happen.”
“Is there a face in your dream? Can you tell me who it is?”
“Everything’s black. It’s so dark. I…”
“Alright, Savannah. Let’s try something different. Lean back and close your eyes. Take some deep, cleansing breaths. Release the negative energy. Relax.”
I’m tentative and slow, uncertain of the direction she’s guiding. But I inhale deeply and close my eyes. I let it go and exhale, releasing all the tension and unease. My shoulder’s sag, and I loosen up a bit.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhmm.”
“Okay. Keep your eyes closed and focus on my voice. I want you to locate a happy memory from your past. One that brings an instant smile to your face.”
“Easy. The day Styx brought me to Lakeview.”
“Interesting. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I was nervous about moving here. Not because of Styx. He’s my man. It was the unknown. When we drove into town, he took me straight to the local hamburger joint Coney Island, raving about how awesome the burgers are. I was skeptical and kept thinking, Burgers are better in Texas, stud. ‘Cause everything’s bigger, ya know? Anyways, when we pulled up to this hole in the wall joint, I started laughing so hard I thought I would pee in my pants. He gave his trademark grin and ushered me inside. Then it was his turn to laugh at me.”
“True. If you aren’t a local, you have no clue what’s behind the big wooden door.” She laughs along with me.
“I’m happy to report Coney Island burgers rank up there with Texas burgers, sugar.”
“Good to know. Okay, Savannah. I want you to hold on to that happy feeling. Focus. Go back to the first moment of awareness from your dreams. The second you are conscious of your surroundings.”
I try, and a shiver works its way up my spine. The blackness approaches quickly.
“It’s so dark and someone’s screaming.”
“Keep going. Who?”
“Really loud. It’s painful to hear. Can’t breathe—I’m choking.” I grab the invisible hands squeezing my neck.
“Listen to me, Savannah. Listen to my voice. You are in my office, where no one can hurt you. You’re safe. Take a deep breath.” Jocelyn pauses. “One more.”
I follow her instructions and lower my hands to my lap, balled tightly into a fist.
“See, you’re not choking.”
“She’s still screaming,” I confess to her, frightened and alarmed.
“Who’s screaming, Savannah?”
Tears are flowing freely. My chest hurts from the pressure. It feels like I’m being buried alive and can’t dig my way out.
“It’s me.” I sob uncontrollably.
“You’re doing good, Savannah. Do you think you can focus on the person with you?”
I passionately shake my head back and forth. “Please don’t make me look.”
“Remember your breathing. We’re almost there, Savannah. Who is it?”
I take a deep breath and search the open space for a ray of light to lead the way. My dream wakens with a flash of light shining from a single bulb hanging above.
“I’m scared to look.”
“You’ve put a Band-Aid over the sore and haven’t acknowledged the problem. You’re strong, Savannah. You crave the truth and want answers. Focus, Savannah. Who’s hurting you?”
I take a deep breath and open my watery eyes, surprised by what I see.
“Oh, my God, it’s me in my dream. I’m the invisible person choking myself to death. How can that be? What does it mean?”
Jocelyn focuses on me and begins to explain, “Suicide dreams are very common in PTSD, Savannah. It’s your mind’s way of dealing with what happened and the depression you’ve succumbed to.”
Since I began the “journey of healing,” labeled by Jocelyn, I plummeted into a very dark place. During our first visit, she explained the five steps of healing. Anger and denial, depression, bargaining and acceptance.
“I don’t want to kill myself,” I whisper as the tears continue to stream silently down my reddened cheeks.
“No, Savannah, that’s not exactly what it means. You see, the mind is a magnificent organ, just like your heart. It can protect us when we need it. Not everyone deals in the same way. On rare occasions, a mind shuts down in order to rectify the traumatic experience a person encounters. Sometimes, people carry on with day-to-day life as if nothing happened, and then one day, snap, plunging into a mental breakdown. But you, Savannah, you are grieving.”
“What do you mean?” Confusion is woven into my sobs.
“Remember when we first started? I gave you the steps for the journey to healing?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been through the anger and denial. The feelings you have now are completely natural in restoring your life. Resurrecting the beautiful person you once were.” Jocelyn smiles.
“But I can’t go back to being the same person. I can never be the same.”
Jocelyn stands up and walks over to the couch, taking a seat right beside me, and takes my hand.
“Savannah, I’ve heard stories of the infamous Savannah Bushard. A fierce woman who could light up a room just by peeking in the doorway. You’ve just jumped the most difficult obstacle yet, by recognizing the meaning behind your nightmares.” Jocelyn squeezes my hand slightly. “You will be whole again. And, no. You may not be the same person as you were before. But you’ll be better. One day at a time. It’s all up to you now, sweetie.”
An invisible weight lifts from my slumped shoulders, and I audibly sigh in relief.
Chapter 11
I sent out a prayer of longing and need to my blond angel. And she responded with hope for a new beginning
~ Styx Fuller
“C’mon, Vanna. I’ve got a surprise for you. Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”
“Quit your fretting, big boy. I’m almost done in here. By the way, you know a masterpiece doesn’t happen with just a snap of your finger. You gotta finesse it, stroke it, build it up. Besides, I wanna look my best for ya, stud muffin.” She laughs.
She’s doing that a lot lately. Ever since her last session with Jocelyn, she’s started to be more like the blond bombshell I met and less like the angry, depressed kitten from the last eight months.
“Okay. Here I am.” Savannah walks out of the bathroom and takes my breath away.
“You’re gorgeous. Pretty as a peach.”
She’s dressed to the nines in skinny jeans and knee-high boots accentuating her long, sexy legs. And the green off-the-shoulder top shaping her voluptuous breasts has me instantly wanting to stay home. But it’s the smile across her face that has me moving toward her. She’s allowed her hair to grow, and it’s past her shoulders now. There’s a slight wave to it. It’s hard to believe she doesn’t use products on it. All natural. The colors match. No bottle needed for my woman.
“Thank ya kindly, sir.”
I wrap her up into me and gently kiss her pouty lips. Taking my time to enjoy the moment. I delve in, relishing in the simple act. It’s been months without intimacy. I’ve held her while she’s healed, but without any expectations of the act goi
ng forward. I’m hoping to change that tonight. Ending the kiss, she shyly lifts her fingers to her swollen mouth. I lead us down the steps and into the garage.
“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
“Hell, no. Seriously? You want me to get on that?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, and it ain’t up for discussion, baby. Get your ass on behind me,” I say, straddling the beast of a motorcycle.
Reluctantly, she complies, cussing the entire time.
“You owe me big time for this, mister. Do you realize how long it took me to style my hair? And you’re gonna blow it all to hell putting a damn helmet on it!”
“Quit your bitchin’, woman, and put it on,” I reply and hand her the spare helmet I purchased earlier just for her. It’s blue with silver stars.
“You got me a Dallas Cowboys helmet? Where I come from, that’s practically an engagement ring,” she jokes.
“It’d be really hard to wear that on your ring finger. Don’t ya think?” I chuckle, amused. “Wrap around me and hang on tight.”
“Ten-four, general sir.” She giggles.
I crank the engine, and we’re zooming off toward my surprise. The feeling of her soft body behind me is a combination of exhilaration, relaxation, and pure pleasure. She has changed me forever. I’ll never be the same.
When we hit the open highway, I gun the engine a little as her arms fly outwards and her soft laughter fills my soul.
“Go faster, Styx,” Savannah shouts into the wind, “I’m free.”
I couldn’t agree more. It’s a physical and emotional pleasure, with a layer of anxiety and adrenaline laced into one. And sharing it with her is amazing. I veer off onto an unpaved road slowly and follow the worn pathway. The closer we get to our destination, the more in tune with nature I become and know this is home. The damp earth combined with old fallen leaves relays a calming effect in my soul. This is the right move for us. Driving past a pine tree, I breathe in the sweet aroma and sigh.
