Chapter 17 Madeleine #2
I reach up to cup his cheek. His glossy eyes meet mine, causing my own to well up with tears. “Let it out, Eli,” I whisper. “It’s eating you up inside when it’s not your guilt to carry. Don’t hold it in any longer.”
One tear rolls down his cheek, and I catch it with my thumb, gently wiping it away.
“After that,” he starts. “Everything happened so fast. I was ambushed by three men and taken to a warehouse. That’s where they kept me tied up. They…” He looks down at me, fighting with himself to continue, unsure if I can handle the truth.
“I can handle it,” I tell him, not sure if I actually can, but I need to be here for him however he needs me to be, even if it’s just to listen to him tell his story.
“You saw my back that first night I moved in here, and well, that was from them. They would torture me when they were bored, usually by burning me. The pain was so bad I would pass out. Maybe for minutes or maybe hours. I lost track of time.”
They burned him.
Fury swirls inside me. Anger like I’ve never felt before clouds my vision. “Who did this to you?” I ask, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. “Who fucking hurt you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, tucking my hair behind my ear. “They never spoke English around me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. After spending so much time in Iraq, I became familiar with many of their words in Arabic and Kurdish, but they weren’t speaking either of those languages.”
A realization hits me, and my eyebrows furrow. “Were they Russian?”
His hand freezes against my face. “Why would you think that?”
“When I came in here tonight, you mumbled something against your pillow. It sounded like ‘szhech’ yego,’ but my Russian is a little rusty, so I’m not positive.”
“What does that mean?”
I pause before answering, “It means burn him.”
He shows no emotion as he processes this information, his mind deep in thought.
“If they were Russian, why would they take you?” I ask. “Why would they do this to you? What did they want?” I shake my head, my heart racing, my mind working into overdrive. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand—”
“Shh,” he whispers, tightening his hold around me. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Tears spill out of my eyes. “They hurt you, and they got away with it. They hurt you, and I want to know why.”
He gently wipes his thumb beneath my eyes. “Some questions I’ll never have answers to, and I have to learn to live with that, or it will only fester inside me. It will hinder me from moving forward.” He shrugs. “At least that’s what my therapist tells me.”
His words take me by surprise. “You saw a therapist?”
He nods. “Still do. It was recommended by my doctors when I came home. They diagnosed me with PTSD.” He looks away from me, his fingers gliding over the sheet.
“I displayed all the signs: flashbacks, nightmares, avoidance—you name it. Eventually, insomnia set in because I was too scared to fall asleep, fearing the dreams that would follow.” He glances down at me with a sad smile. “Bet I don’t seem so tough now, huh?”
I shake my head. “You’re the bravest man I know. Nothing will ever change the way I see you.” I press my lips to his chest, right over his heart. “What happened to you was something no one should ever have to endure. And it breaks my heart that you have.”
I wish he had told me all of this sooner.
I wish he had felt safe enough to trust me with his story.
But I know why he didn’t.
Because when he came home, I was engaged to another man.
And it was in his best interest that I kept my distance from him, which is exactly what I tried to do for so long.
Even if it broke my heart every damn day.
I glance up at him, the man who holds my heart in his hands. “Eli, I…” Love you. I close my lips because I have to. Because if I say those three words, then I risk his safety.
I risk everything.
And I won’t do that.
He must see the sorrow in my eyes because he leans forward and softly presses his lips to mine. It’s gentle and slow—everything we both need.
“I know,” he whispers, brushing his lips over my temple. I press my face into his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath my ear.
A moment of silence passes between us before I say, “Eli?”
“Yes, love?”
“How did you get out of there?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He rubs a hand up and down my arm. “They got a call. I don’t know who it was, but after that call, I was freed. Dropped off at a local hospital where I was treated and eventually reunited with my commanding officer.”
I know who it was, I think as my heart pounds painfully beneath my chest.
“That was my last day in the military. I was honorably discharged afterward. They claimed my back injuries were too severe for me to perform my job satisfactorily any longer.” He shrugs, pretending it isn’t a big deal.
But I know how much being in the military meant to Eli.
I know how much it pained him to lose what he loved doing so deeply.
He brushes his hand over my hair, then pulls up the blanket. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
I nod, peering up at him. “I’ll keep the nightmares away. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
He kisses me one last time before sliding down the bed and tugging me against his chest. His arms wrap around me as I settle my head on his bicep, inhaling his comforting scent and wishing every night could be spent like this—safe in Eli’s arms.