Chapter 61
Victor
Kid,
I don’t know how to start this, brother.
I mean, honestly, I can’t even believe I’m fucking doing this.
I keep going back and forth on whether or not to go through with this, but ultimately, all I can see is her.
You should have seen the marks I left on her throat, man.
I mean, fuck, how could I have done something like that?
To my baby. I told her I would never hurt her.
You know what her stepdad was like. All the abuse and hate she survived at his hands. What kind of a fucking monster am I?
I tried to lay off the alcohol, Kid, but the demons are creeping in, and I don’t know how to get rid of them.
I see it, I see it all. The kid in the accident, our team when they were slaughtered, the things I did so we all could make it back home.
Fuck, the things we did on that first deployment, Kid.
I mean, just to make it home safe. I can’t shut off the flashbacks.
I can smell things like I’m right fucking there again.
I can smell the blood. I can’t stop smelling the goddamn blood.
Fuck, I can even smell the fire from that accident a few months back.
I mean, the demons are coming, Kid, and I can’t get them to stop.
The alcohol drowns them out, but I can’t drink again.
I won’t hurt her again. I can’t do that to her.
Some days, I feel like it would just be easier to let them take me. Like today.
I guess if you’re reading this, then I lost my battle.
I left a letter for D. He’s gonna take this hard and blame himself, but he did everything right. I’m just too broken, man. It feels like no one can help me, and I know Sheila and the girls, and you all won’t give up on me. This way, I can let go, so you all can live.
The third letter is for you to read at my funeral. That’s fucking depressing, maybe call it a celebration of life or some shit.
Anyway, I chose you for this letter because you were my first brother, and I know you need to hear this straight from me…I know you and Gabbi have been working so hard to work everything out, and I’m really fucking proud of you, man. I really am. So please don’t be pissed at what I am about to say.
I know that you and Gabbi had a similar situation that I had with Sheila.
I also know that you’ve worked really hard on yourself.
But I know sometimes those demons creep in.
I can see them hovering behind your eyes.
I can hear them in your voice. Always waiting to strike.
I’m asking you to really consider what I’m about to say.
If you still get the flashes, if you still have those demons scratching inside your brain, you may need to consider walking away for their safety.
I know you love Gabbi and those girls more than your own life, which is why I’m saying this.
If you can’t make sure that you’ll never go back to that dark place in the back of your mind.
If you can’t say that you have exiled your demons 100%, walk away, brother.
Don’t do what I did; you’ll never come back from that.
Be a better man than me. Be a stronger man than me. I love you, Vic.
Your brother,
Cookie
Well, fuck.
Tears are rushing down my face, and pressure fills my chest.
What if Cookie’s right? I can’t hurt Gabbi again. I don’t want to lose her, but I won’t hurt her again. Maybe all of this was for nothing. Maybe Cookie’s right.
I might have to leave her to keep her safe.
My stomach turns, and sharp pain shoots through my heart. My legs collapse from under me, and I fall to my hands and knees at the thoughts that bang around in my head. I can feel the panic rising inside. My head is starting to feel like I’m underwater.
Come on, Vic, get yourself together.
Fuck, I can’t breathe. Darkness starts to crowd my periphery.
Breathe, Vic. Fuck. Breathe.
Okay. Come on. Five things. Name five things for the senses.
Trying to concentrate on the plush, pale green carpet underneath me, I flex my fingers, feeling the silky fibers and activating my sense of touch. One.
Slowing my inhale, I sit back on my haunches and look around, attempting to breathe in counts of four. What do I see? I see the burnt orange walls surrounding me. One with a large mirror, the other three with large, colorful Mexican-style paintings hanging on them. Two.
My breath is slowing, and my ears feel like they’ve popped after swimming.
I focus on my hearing. Muffled voices downstairs, the fan whirring above the queen-sized bed next to me. Three.
My heart rate feels back to normal, and my breathing has evened out.
Using the cushy bed to assist me, I stand apprehensively and finish grounding myself. I smell…lilies and…ginger. Her. I smell Gabriella. The smell causes a lump in my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow. When I do, I realize the taste in my mouth, sour and dry. I know this taste.
It’s fear.