Chapter 11 Oak
Oak
Iwake up with a start. My mind heavily disoriented and my blood rushing with adrenaline. I blink rapidly, trying to decipher where I am. My heart beats pace has only quickened and so has my breath. They come in short and fast, as if I’ve exerted myself beyond my physical limits.
The smell of gunpowder permeates the air and the taste of heavy metallic explodes in my mouth.
With each blink I capture glimpses like a snapshot movie reel.
The door busting down with a loud crack and wood splintering around us.
Entering the building to only be met with a group of armed men.
The angry expressions upon their faces as they rained down on us with bullets.
My men. . .my brothers being shot. I choke on the sob that wants to rip out of my throat.
Blink after blink I relive the moments that haunt me.
I can remember each of their screams. I remember how piercing they were.
Busting my eardrums worse than the ricochet of bullets.
My ears rung for days until all I heard was the faintest of screams that lasted for weeks.
I remember their faces as it happened. Men who were made of pure titanium break down to raw iron.
Sheer panic and terror holding them captive.
Paralyzed by fear. Desperation seeping from their skin.
Eyes frantically searching for a way out. Until they landed on me.
Until all their eyes landed on me.
They weren’t searching then. They were begging, pleading for me to do something. To do anything to get us out of there alive.
The worst part I remember is the realization they all shared. The realization that there wouldn’t be a way out. This would be their end. There wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And with that realization came acceptance and disappointment.
As I watched, choking on my own blood all my comrades take their last breaths I wanted nothing more than to take mine, too.
We were brothers.
All of us.
Then came the very last second.
The last breath.
The last flicker of light in their eyes.
The last heartbeat.
I witnessed my brothers experience their lasts while mine never came.
And I waited. I waited so fucking long for it to take me, too.
That was the plan. Fight together. Die together.
Together.
I couldn’t even give them that.
And there are days where I can’t tell which guilt weighs heavier.
The guilt of not getting them out of there alive after I ordered for them to go through or the guilt of living.
But right now, right now I can feel the guilt of living pressing down on my chest to where it hurts to fucking breathe. Every breath that I take a painful reminder that they will never have another.
All the little things that people take for granted scream at me.
Being able to walk with my own two legs.
A leg that was bleeding out from a bullet that Roman took.
A leg that he would have lost if he would have survived.
Having my own two arms and all ten of my fingers. The fact that I can wake up every day.
They scream at me. They remind me of how good that I have it. They tell me I could’ve lost so much more.
But my head, my fucked up brain tells me too often of all the things that I have lost. Of all the things I’m continuing to lose everyday.
You see they don’t tell you this when you enlist.
Fight for your country. Be a proud and courageous Marine. Remember what you were taught. Act how you were trained. You will be in life and death situations but you are prepared. Do your duty and stand for what you believe in. Then when the time comes you will go home and your fight will be done.
They failed to mention the risk of losing yourself in the process.
How combat can change a man. That some days will be harder than others.
Where there will be days that you question if humanity still exists.
Images will burn in your head to last a lifetime.
Nightmares will become more frequent. Sleeping in a bed is no longer comfortable because you prefer the cold hard unforgiving floor. Home no longer feels like home.
And when you come back you try to find a sense of normalcy but it’s never within your grasp.
They told us to fight for our country.
They didn’t tell us we would have to fight for our souls.
After my comrades were brutally shot to death before my own eyes, screaming and begging for an escape, they said I was detached.
Mentally unfit if I recall. Too unstable to continue my tour. I would be sent home where the fight would be over. Where I could become whole again.
They said the war was over. Promised me my days of fighting were long before me. I could finally rest, they said. Sleep without having one eye open.
Except they lied.
Because I have been fighting harder and harder every god damned day fucking since.
And fuck it, I’m exhausted.
I know what’s inside the drawer of my nightstand.
I know what will happen if I hold the cold metal in my hands.
Is that what I really want?
To end this guilt?
To end this pain I bestow upon myself because no amount I endure will ever be enough.
It will all be over, won’t it?
Will I then finally find the rest they promised me? Will I then finally be at peace?
I blindly reach for my nightstand, keeping my back to it so I don’t see the picture of Nora and me.
After fumbling fingers I grip the edge of the nightstand. It’s just in the drawer. Right in my grasp. So close.
Squeezing my eyes shut more tears manage to come out.
And then I go for the piece of metal to save me from all of this.
Except my fingers don’t go for the drawer. They go for the piece of metal on top of my nightstand.
I grasp my phone in my hands with a death grip.
Through blurry eyes and with shaky fingers I unlock my phone and go to my voicemails.
I see her name through the mist of my eyes and with a ragged breath I press play.
“It’s me, Grace, well really Gracie Mae until I hear back from you.
It’s almost been a month since I’ve heard from you.
God that makes me sound clingy, I’m not, I swear,” she rushes into the phone.
Hearing her voice immediately has a profound effect on me.
I begin to calm, if only a fraction so I can hear what she says next.
“It’s just I haven’t seen you or heard from you and it has me worried about you.
Is everything okay?” She pauses and then continues, “Are you okay?” She pauses again and I hear her breathe through the phone.
“Whatever it is, Oak, whatever it is that has made you distant you can talk to me about it. Anytime, anywhere I’ll be there for you, always.
” My heartstrings pull in all directions as my heart clenches, stealing my breath.
“I, uh, I guess I better go.” I hear her swallow.
Her voice returns through the phone but it’s shaky.
“I’m here, Oak. I’ll always be here.” The voicemail ends and newfound tears trail down my face.
Gracie Mae, my own light and savior and she doesn’t even fucking know it.
I sit on the floor with my phone in my hand staring down at her contact.
Anytime, anywhere, is what she said.
Glancing at the top left of my screen it reads that it’s quarter to four in the morning.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. I have no right. And what a hypocrite I would be.
But I’m tired. I’m tired of this fight. I’m tired of this war in my head.
And I need her.
Despite everything telling me otherwise I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear.
As it rings while I wait for her to answer it feels like hours.
I shouldn’t have called.
The phone continues to ring.
Fuck, this isn’t a good idea.
I’m about to hang up when the ringing ends and a groggy but soft voice answers the phone, “Hello?”
My fingers grip around the phone harder as I hear her voice. It hits me like a sledgehammer. “Grace.” My voice cracks despite itself. A tear slides down my cheek.
Her voice becomes clearer and with it I hear concern. “Oak,” she says my name in that sweet voice of hers and for the first time since I woke up I feel like I can breathe.
I close my eyes, letting my shoulders fall with the relief she’s giving me.
“Oak,” she says my name again. “How are you?”
The casual question at close to four o’clock in the morning causes my lips to twitch.
“How am I?” I can’t even hide the amusement in my tone.
“It’s close to four o’clock in the morning and I’m calling you and you’re casually asking how I am?
” This girl, she surprises me. Always keeping me on my fucking toes.
And she doesn’t even know how much I need it let alone enjoy it.
“It sounds a hell of a lot better than, Oak, are you okay? What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all. Or nothing if you’d rather. We can just talk and I’ll stay on the phone with you until you fall back asleep.”
God my heart fucking clenches.
People like Grace are few and far between.
And it’s a blessing and a curse that she’s using that heart on me.
“That’s exactly what I need to hear,” I tell her gruffly.
She breathes and it sounds pained. As if she’s hurting for me, feeling the pain I inflict upon myself. That’s a pain no one deserves to feel except me. And I don’t know how to stop her from feeling it if I don’t know how. But for the first time I’m willing to give it a try.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks softly.
“I’d rather not.” My tone comes out harsher than I intended it to. I curse under my breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” I can practically see the small smile that I know is on her face.
“You forgive easily.”
“I think the world could do some good with a little forgiveness.”
“Even the worst of us?” I half joke.
She hums thoughtfully. “Well, I believe in redemption.”
“What about those who are far past redemption? What then?”