The Last Knight

Chapter 4

Samuel

It’s Saturday afternoon, as I effortlessly navigate the gym, my thoughts are elsewhere. They”re with Marcy and the daunting reality that I”ll be seeing her tonight. I was tempted to cancel on Miles and Sebastian, but I knew my deceit would be transparent. The raw truth is, I”m unnerved at the thought of being near her again. The reason for my fear is unclear, whether it”s guilt for somewhat breaking my promise to her brother or the undeniable pull of attraction I have towards her. Whatever it is, I need to get my ass in gear.

As the rhythm from my headphones shifts to a calmer tempo, I know it”s time to begin the wind down. My body is protesting, having been driven beyond its limits in this workout, yet it kept moving, as if on autopilot, while my mind wandered elsewhere.

Switching off the machine, I reach for my towel, dabbing away the sweat from my face and neck. A wave of fatigue washes over me, providing the exact relief I was seeking. The weight of responsibilities, worries, and expectations—dissolving. I toss the towel in the bin and head to the shower. I step in, a torrent of comforting hot water washes over my aching body. I stand for a moment basking in the feel of the water sliding over me. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I wash up and get out.

Draping a towel about my waist while I study the mirror”s reflection over the bathroom counter, my eyes trace the countless faded scars and healed battle wounds. The scar above my eyebrow—the result of a daring leap. The one on my knuckles—the aftermath of a fight for justice. And the one normally hidden beneath my sleeve—the battle against inner demons. They’ve witnessed tears shed in solitude, laughter shared with friends, and the quiet determination that carried me through sleepless nights. The scars are a testament to the trials of years past, a silent narration of my transformation. I”ve evolved; I”m not the man I used to be. My transformation into the person I am today is deeply rooted in my experiences with the Army. The blend of enriching encounters and rigorous challenges has sculpted my character.

When I think back over my time in the military, it’s always clouded over by the death of Matthew. Running my hands through my hair, I head into my closet to get dressed. I don’t want to sit around and think about him, especially not when I have a party to get ready for. One that will bring me face to face with his sister.

The sound of my phone ringing from the bed grabs my attention, pausing my thoughts about tonight. Sebastian’s name appears on the screen and I know why he’s calling.

“Hey man,” I answer as I walk over to the bank of windows in my bedroom.

“Sam! I just wanted to make sure we will be seeing you tonight, man,” Sebastian booms over the phone.

“Heh, I figured you would be calling to check up on me.” I roll my eyes because he can’t see me.

“Well I hate to tell ya but you have a history of not showing up. Miles and I want you here with us,” he states, joking aside.

“Yeah I’ll be there. I was about to get dressed when you called.” I walk over to the wet bar in my room to pour a glass of whiskey. I need something to take the nerves away. I do better when I’m on my own in the comfort of my penthouse. Unless, I’m out following her. She makes me yearn for things that aren’t possible. Even with that knowledge, I can’t keep away from her. I need my daily dose of her. She’s like a drug and I’m an addict.

“Good, good. See you tonight.” Sebastian ends the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I place my phone on the bed, my fingers curling tightly around my drink. As I savor its warmth, I find my worries fading away. Whiskey has become one of my constant companions. I wish it wasn’t, but here we are. I head back to the closet to dress in something appropriate for a birthday party that I’m sure will be the talk of the town. The Knights, renowned for their extravagance, have been this way since our childhood. With a resigned sigh, I ruffle my still damp hair and select a pair of slacks, accompanied by a shirt and tie.

My mind wanders back to her. She’s a magnet and my brain can’t resist the pull. I question, not for the first time, if her brother implied more when he asked me to look after her, but that’s an answer I’ll never know. I drive myself mad thinking of what he really wanted from me. An overwhelming sense of regret washes over me. I know I shouldn’t have left her alone all these years. I helped her from afar but the guilt of not physically being there for her haunts me, especially since she doesn’t have any family left.

Before I returned to the states, I found out about the accident that took her parents’ lives. I was physically ill, knowing that she had been alone in the world all this time.

I hired a P.I. to track her down a few years before I got back to the states so that I could learn more about the woman she grew into. I didn’t plan on becoming obsessed with her every move. I admit that I tried to break the connection many times, but I felt compelled to look after her, like a crazy guardian angel. I even went so far as to threaten potential suitors of hers. No one could ever be good enough for her. I’d told her once that boys didn’t deserve her. She needs someone worthy of her. I smile at the memory from long ago.

Even with everything I’ve done to assist Marcy, I still feel as though I”ve disappointed Matthew. Even if I knew what he meant when he told me to take care of her, the guilt of him dying in my arms has kept me from initiating anything with her. He should have been the one that came back from war, not me. Survivors” guilt is a real and ever-present cloud hanging over my head. I down the rest of my whiskey then place the glass back on the bar debating on refilling it. Alcohol numbs the pain and memories. It keeps me going on most days.

Matthew would probably argue that I haven”t been caring for myself, yet I”ve been giving it my all. Unfortunately, the VA doesn”t consistently provide aid to those in need, regardless of their circumstances. I’m basically a soldier left to my own devices. A twinge of anger rises when I think about the soldiers that need more help than me and aren’t getting it. An idea sparks in my mind growing brighter and brighter. I jog to my computer to write it all down before I forget.

An overwhelming need to help those soldiers rises in my chest. With the resources I have available at my fingertips, I can come up with a way to help those soldiers that get out of the military and don’t receive the help they deserve. I want to be there for them instead of letting them fall into the cracks as I did.

Once in my office, I login to my computer and begin putting together a proposal that I can pitch to different agencies in order to get the right professionals involved. My fingers fly across the keyboard explaining my personal situation and mental condition when I got back to the states and how it’s so similar to many others. I have comrades that couldn’t handle civilian life and so they took their own. It doesn’t get easier to attend these funerals that could have been avoided. I haven’t been this excited about a project in a long time and I think I have what it takes to get it off the ground. To be honest, being a Knight opens many doors for me as well. Miles and Sebastian are bound to want to back this passion project because they have seen firsthand the toll the military can take on a person. Men and women are suffering and I have the means to do something about it. I know I can’t help everyone but if I can help someone, that means more to me than anything at this point.

I finish my statement using examples and first-person accounts of the mental state I was in and still struggle with since becoming a civilian. The writing process was actually cathartic because I got out all the emotions that clog my mind every day. After shedding a few tears over the specifics surrounding Matthew’s death, I breathe a sigh of relief. It filters through my body and I feel as though a weight has been lifted from me. Of course I will still continue to have mental problems but I think I tackled a huge milestone with putting it into writing.

Once I got started, it was like word vomit and I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. My fingers play over the keyboard explaining specific hardships I face to this day. Once I take a step back and look at the document I’m stunned that all this came out of me. I knew I kept things close to my heart but I never knew that this was all bottled up inside me, waiting for the right conditions to explode. I need to send this to my therapist since she has been urging me to write about my experiences. She said getting them out onto paper would aid in personal growth and emotional healing. I have to admit that she was onto something.

I glance at my watch and realize my driver has probably been waiting for a while since the party is about to begin. I spent so much time in front of the computer coming up with this plan for fellow soldiers to get the help they so desperately need that time ran away from me. Rubbing the tears from the corner of my eyes, I save my project and run out of my office toward the front door. Grabbing my jacket off the hook, I head out and down the elevator. There is a lightness to my step that wasn’t there before. As I descend the floors, I can’t help but think about this new project and all the possibilities that could arise from it.

“Mr. Knight, good evening. I was beginning to worry,” Thomas explains as he opens the door for me.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I lost track of time.” I slide into the plush Bently, remembering a time when this was the norm.

“Not to worry. It’s good to see you, sir.” He closes the door then rounds the car to his door. Thomas pulls out into the city traffic heading toward the venue.

For the first time, I’m not dreading this event but excited about what tonight can hold. Getting that shit out of my head cleared a way for new possibilities to grow.