20. Exposure
Chapter twenty
Exposure
Owen
A few weeks later.
I walked up to Dom in the middle of a busy market in Goa and planted myself in the seat next to him. His look of shock only lasted a few seconds before he put me to work. I knew it was wrong because of the state I was in, but within minutes I was using my ability to ghost to their advantage and got their case cleared ahead of schedule. It felt good, really fucking good, to be part of it all again. I got lucky I wasn’t triggered.
I need to be honest with them now.
“Zan, can I have a word?” I ask as we sit at the bar after getting back to the hotel and his eyes squint in question.
“Yeah, how important is this?” he asks, turning to face me.
“Very,” I state.
“Sure,” placing his order, he turns back to me, “let me finish up and I'll meet you in my room.” Handing me his key card, I make my way up to his room. I hope he’ll agree to this. I couldn’t have done this sort of therapy with my old therapist. There was no way I could trust him for this. I'm anxious about asking Zan to do therapy with me. He has the experience of being a counsellor and being in the army. He also has my respect and trust. It's risky given we're on missions, but it's what I need to be able to function.
Zan’s room in the hotel is simple—a bedroom with a small seating area. Pouring myself a whisky from his minibar to settle my nerves, I walk out of the doors leading out onto the balcony. Looking over the busy street below, taking a sip of my drink, I wonder what Charlies doing. Fuck, I miss her so much.
The door clicks behind me, and I hear footsteps approach. “Let me guess, you need help with something?” he says, coming to stand next to me, his eyes trained on my face. “Everyone on your team is looking for you, O.” That’s a fucking loaded question, one I know I have to be honest about.
“Yeah, it’s a big ask… I have PTSD,” I state.
“Fuck, Dom just let you…” He sucks in a breath. “Why should I keep you here?”
“I’d like your help with exposure therapy. I'm here to gain control of it. I don't want to shy away anymore.”
His face falls, the reality of my situation sinking in. I don’t like the look on his face, a cross between a scowl and shock.
“Holy shit,” he says, gripping the railing. “How bad?”
“Bad enough. I have flashbacks.” Hanging my head in shame.
“You can stop that right now. This is nothing to be ashamed of, O.” My head pops back up at his words.
“What sets you off?” Zan asks.
“Gunfire,” I answer honestly. “Loud noises.” I hate this already.
“What else is going on?” he asks, eyes scrutinising me.
“I have an overwhelming feeling of not been good enough, not doing enough, and that I won’t be able to save anyone around me.” That hurt, like a tear in my chest. I feel exposed.
“Jesus fucking Christ. So bad yeah?” he quips. “We just put you straight on a job. That’s shit we needed to know about before sending you out there.” He’s pissed. I get it. I fucked up. I should have never done it.
“Fuck, I know, I know, I just… wanted to be part of something again. But I have a plan. That’s why I’m here.” I feel like I’m fucking up already. I have to remind myself I’m not. I am good at what I do. I’ve just proved that I am capable by doing that job.
“Fine, I’m telling Dom everything he needs to know.” All I can do is nod. I’m in their hands.
“Yeah, you’re kind of my last hope,” I say, grimacing as I let the words out.
“No pressure then,” he adds with a slight shake of his head.
“How much do you know?” I inquire. They have to know something. I co-own the business they work for.
“We know you freaked out after Jack’s woman got shot. But not much more. You’ve been MIA for six months. Why make an appearance now?”
“I tried therapy. They wanted me to give up this life. Step away permanently.” Disbelief crosses his features.
“What did you do? Tell them to get fucked and fire their ass?”
A burst of laughter escapes me. “Er…yeah, exactly that,” I admit, still chuckling.
“It’s what I’d say if anyone asked me to give this life up.” He shrugs when I glance back at him.
“I want to get rid of this shit. I want to be able to control my reactions to situations and noise.”
“Fuck, do you realise just how hard that’s going to be?”
I’ve considered it. I’ve been doing my research. “Yeah, I do,” I admit, a headache settling in my temples. I want my life back. I want the business we’ve built, but most of all, I want Charlie.
“Sit down. I’ll need another beer before we start. I’ll work out a plan for you, but I’m warning you now, it’s going to be uncomfortable. I’m going to need you to be one-hundred per cent honest with me at all times. If I feel you can’t handle a situation, you’re out, no questions asked, you leave. And we reconvene later and discuss.”
“I’m in your hands, Zan.”
“Good. Order some room service. We’ll be here a while.” I may be his boss, but right now I’m willing to do anything to get this under control.
A few hours later, Zan’s put a plan together: Daily noise exposure therapy, followed by talking therapy and fact-based exposure therapy, where we review the two situations that brought me here.
“It’s going to be intense. Are you up for it?” Zan asks.
“Yeah, I am. I’m all in.”
“Where are you standing?” Zan asks softly, sitting on the comfy chairs in his hotel room. He’s encouraging me to see the scene for myself, and not rush the process. I’ve had a tendency to flick to the worst parts, and not see the information in front of me. This time I’m going to process it all. I don’t need to speak. He’s asking me to get me there in my mind, to see it all. Visualising Millie’s shooting. I’m stood in the ballroom, Leon by my side, watching Jack make his speech.
“What do you see around you?” Zan asks, making me think of the day in all the detail I can. The crowd, plants, faces I don’t know. “What do you hear?” The faint music, Jack's voice filling the room as he hands out awards to his staff. My heart rate picks up when I see Millie move behind us through the crowd towards the door. My throat feels tight, my hands clammy as I flex my fingers. “Tell me what’s just happened?” He sees the change in me.
“Millie’s just walked away… She’s—”
“Pause. Take a moment.” I breathe in on the count of four and exhale for six. After a few rounds, my heart rate slows, and I relax my hands. “Keep looking around. Is there anything that looks out of place, anything that shouldn’t be there?”
A shake of my head gives him my answer. Everything looks normal. My heart rate slows further.
“Carry on, go slow, look around” I do. The room is still full. Jack calls for Dan to move on to the stage, then looks confused when he doesn’t. I only take my eyes off Jack for a split second when my phone rings in my pocket. Lifting it to my ear, I can hear it like it was yesterday. ‘RED.’ Dan's voice fills my ears. Reaching for Leon, I repeat the word, pushing through the crowd of guests. My heart is in my throat, only looking to Jack when we are almost out, telling him Glen’s here.
“Pause again,” Zan instructs before I can slip into the chaos that unfolds next. I’m in my head, about to push through the door.
“What were your thoughts right there?”
Without opening my eyes, I tell him, “I wanted the building secure.”
“What did you do to resolve that?”
“I hit the alert button and sent Leon around the front of the building.”
“Was there anything else you could have done in that moment?”
“No” shit, my shoulders ease a little, “No, there wasn’t.” Slightly taken aback by my own words, my chest feels a little lighter.
“Good, move on.”
Playing out the scene in my mind, I open the door running out to find Millie in front of Dan. They exchange words. Dan tries to grab for her. I pull him back, trying to grab for Millie as I do, but she’s too far away. She exchanges herself for Em, catching her as Glen shoves Em away. She runs to Dan, safe. I take a step closer to Millie when Glen wraps his hand around her throat, pulling her back.
“Pause, what’s happening? I can see a change in you. You’re tense, breathing escalated.”
“He’s just grabbed Millie.”
“How did you make the others safe?”
“I stopped Dan from stepping in, held him back. I should have grabbed Millie.”
“Did you assess the threat in the room when you entered?”
“Yes.” I frown, even with my eyes closed, a little offended
“What was the outcome?” he asks.
“High risk, unknown weapons, volatile suspect, emotions running high, unpredictable.”
“What is the correct action to take in that situation?” Fuck, he’s good. I’m starting to see this whole thing the way everyone else tells me they saw it.
“Keep assessing. Clear anyone you can. Make the suspect focus on me and not the victim.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Yes, until Jack came in.”
“What happened when Jack came in?”
“He was running straight for her. At that point Glen had already stabbed Millie, his gun was drawn. I had to fight Jack to keep him safe. It was the best of a bad situation.”
“Best of a bad situation,” he repeats before asking that question. “Was there anything else you could have done?”
“No, I knew Leon had done what I asked. I trust him. I kept Em, Dan and Jack as safe as I could until I knew I had backup.”
“When was that?” he prompts.
“When we kicked the door down, I saw Leon take Glen down. I ran in their direction, ready to help, but he was… feral.” I admit, “Unpredictable even. Jack ran to Millie. They were out of the way.”
“Was there anything else you could have done at this point?” This question pisses me off, because I know the answer. It’s the same every time.
“Yes, get the gun out of his reach.”
“Was that possible?”
Pausing before I answer, then letting out a groan, I can see exactly what he’s done. “No,” I say firmly, annoyed I’ve not been able to see this sooner.
“Good, we’ll leave it there for today. When I open my eyes, I can see the fucking smirk on his face.
“How do you see the event now?”
“Differently, in a good way.” I’m a little confused. It’s taken my brain a while to catch up to the reality and honest truth of what happened.
“What you did was good, O. How do you think your progress is coming on?” he asks,
“I can see that the choices I made on the day and before were the right ones, that I don’t have control over someone else's actions.” I breathe out the pent up tension at saying those words out loud.
“We still have a way to go, but this is fucking great.”
Bang – the gun goes off; I flinch and nothing else. I feel an uncomfortable buzz in my chest, but that’s okay. I can move past that. I relax, mentally patting myself on the back for getting through another round of gunfire. Ten shots per round. This time, no ear defenders.
Grey, our intel, and explosives guy, wonders over, looking smug as fuck. “I knew this would work. Nothing like it. Did it myself a few years back. Start small and work your way up the big stuff.” I never thought I would get this far. “Time to go bigger” I just look at him. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ve cleared it with Zan.” Sighing with relief, Grey can get a little overexcited when it comes to making a noise. He wanted to do this using explosives, that was very quickly vetoed by everyone.
Looking down, I remember the words Harley makes me recite every time I walk into talking therapy. ‘Know you are safe. Having anxiety is not bad. That feeling you have is designed to protect you. It’s uncomfortable, and you can do uncomfortable things.’ And we start again, this time bigger, louder and a lot more fun.
Understanding what happened to me and my team in the unit all those years ago was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I know now it was out of my control. I did everything I could have. This team, have been the best therapy I could have ever had. I’ve lived life again, camped in the wild and untamed lands, ate by the fire, slept in cars and worked on doing what I do best to help the team around me. I’ve done it all, this time on my terms, in my way, dealing with the trauma that each case would bring. Therapy after each one for the first few months helped me process my actions. I stopped blaming myself for the things I couldn’t control. I guess living and working in this life has given Zander a better insight to help those around him.
They all knew I'd been MIA; they knew what happened to Millie, Jacks now wife. We talked. They all went through what they would have done in my place and it was nothing different to what I did. It was strange really. Leon had said all those words before, but I just couldn’t acknowledge them. I needed the space my lodge offered. I needed to do this journey on my own. Figure it out my way.
I’m not saying I’m cured. It will always be there, but I understand how to deal with all of it now. If I ever need help, I have Zan on speed dial.