Chapter 14
Emersyn
The snow finally breaks, but it doesn’t mean the same as it did before. All it means now is that the sun beams through the window, taunting me with a freedom I know I’ll never have. I slide into a pair of dark wash jeans and an olive colored sweatshirt, pull my hair up into a messy bun, and step out of the bedroom. Part of me hopes Turner is still upstairs with his bourbon—the way he left yesterday evening.
But there’s this unwanted small part of me that hopes I’ll run into him.
I hate that part of me. It’s the same part that made me feel guilty for spitting in his face, which had the opposite effect of what I thought it would. I hurt him, which is maybe what I wanted. But two wrongs don’t make a right, right? I don’t know anymore.
“I’m going outside to get started clearing,” Turner tells me as soon as I appear at the end of the hallway. Gunner stands beside him, wagging his tail. I nod, meeting his eyes. He instantly looks away. It’s like a game.
And now he’s the one who won’t face me.
“How much snow?”
“Four days’ worth,” he grunts, opening the backdoor and disappearing. I watch him go, the door slamming shut behind him. I stare after him, wondering why I still feel the urge to follow him. I suppressed it, but it’s still there. I let out a sigh, my stomach growling. Slowly, my appetite has resurfaced, and honestly, the grief has faded astronomically faster than I expected.
In fact, I think there might be something wrong with me. But maybe this is just how I cope.
I shudder, and then grab a granola bar, spinning on my heels and heading back down the hallway. However, as I reach the end of the hallway, I make a right, heading up the stairs. Turner is going to be out a while, and as I peer out the window, I see him already shoveling snow around the house.
“I lied to you,” I say, watching him through the window. “I do want to know who’s going to try and kill me.” There’s a knot in my throat as the words leave my lips, and I’m almost certain it makes me crazy.
But if I know him, maybe I stand a chance to survive him.
I head straight for the room he found me in, slipping inside. I leave the lights off, letting the natural light fill the room, and I shut myself in. I should hear him come in, but if I don’t, I’ll at least have a chance to hide. It’s a shitty plan, but I have to know why Turner did what he did—and I have a good feeling this room means something.
As soon as I click the door shut, I head for the desk in the corner. I pick up the top letter first, which is an explanation that he’s not eligible to receive disability with a dishonorable discharge. I set that to the side, picking up a handwritten letter from someone named Calvin Bradford. It’s handwritten, worn, and it appears it’s been poured over more times than once, dated December 11, 2013.
Thomas,
Thank you for reaching out. I won’t be stateside for another six months. When I am, I will give you a call and see how things are going. I don’t want to leave you without more information, however. I know you have the official documents, but you deserve the off-record truth, too.
Your brother is struggling with severe PTSD, but I believe it’s developing into more. His outbursts are violent, and even though they follow with heartbreaking remorse for his actions, I believe that he’s going to need significant clinical help to get past his blackouts that have developed. He nearly killed me, and his psychologist could only explain it as a break in his psyche. I don’t think it’s a high or addiction. It’s the trauma eating him alive. I’m worried one day, he will snap and hurt someone he loves.
I’m not angry at him for what happened. He was one of the best in his unit. Don’t ever let his mental illness overshadow his bravery for the duration of his enlistment. I did everything I could for a medical discharge, but unfortunately, it didn’t come to pass. Just don’t forget he saved eight men. They have not forgotten him.
He suffered a great loss with Taylor passing and you all’s parents a month later in the accident a little over two years ago. I believe he stuck it out and served for another year after, because he thought going through the motions would fix him—but I think it only prolonged the buildup and then the break.
But it’s just a theory, Thomas. I don’t know if that’s what’s going on. I just know, no one should lose their parents and brother in a month span. I wish every day the car accident wouldn’t have happened. I’m so incredibly sorry for you and Turner’s losses. Don’t give up on him but please keep your safety in mind.
Give him my regards. He has my phone number. If he wants my help, call me. He hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent him thus far. I know he is in a dark place. I hope he finds his way out someday.
Bradford
I blink away the tears as I set the letter back down on the desk, my heart aching with sympathy. Turner killed Adam, but for fuck’s sake, how much can one man go through? I then begin to open drawers, finding mostly irrelevant papers, other than some still full prescriptions issued by psychiatrists. When I finally make it to the final drawer, I find a journal. I flip it open, seeing Thomas’s name.
It starts August 1 st 2011, and I start flipping through it, noting that Thomas is working on the cabin, planning a hunting trip for him, his father, Turner, and their brother, Taylor, when they’re home later that year. I take a seat in the floor, sitting cross legged as I keep reading, stopping on the ones that mention Turner.
September 1, 2011
Turner and Taylor were deployed on a mission. No idea where they went. Praying for their safe return.
September 28, 2011
Still haven’t heard from Turner or Taylor. I have a bad feeling in my gut. Pops called, wanting to know if I’d heard from him. I told him no but didn’t express my worry.
October 5, 2011
Turner said their mission was supposed to last a few weeks. It’s been a month. Still trying not to worry.
October 15, 2011
Finally heard from Turner. Taylor was killed three days ago. No details. I can’t believe it. Turner will be home in a few days.
October 18, 2011
I picked up Turner today. Something isn’t right. He’s not himself. He’s torn up over Taylor. They were in combat, providing rescue aid. He said, ‘they got into bad shit.’ That’s all I know. His commanding officer said he is being nominated for a medal of honor. Turner doesn’t appear to care. I’m worried about him, but I know he’s grieving.
October 20, 2011
Turner, Pops, and I went out to the range today. It didn’t go well. Turner seemed to have some kind of flashback. Pops talked him out of it. He goes back in a couple of weeks. I hope he gets some help.
October 25, 2011
Taylor’s services were today. Turner handled it better than I expected. I miss my brother, but I’m thankful Turner made it back.
October 27, 2011
I can’t believe I’m writing this. Mom and Pops are gone. This might be the worst day of my life. Turner is so sick. He needs help. He was at the store and had another flashback. He barricaded himself in the bathroom. Mom and Pops were on their way to help him when a fucking box truck ran a red light. I couldn’t be in two places at once. I left the Marines to retrieve Turner. They said he’ll get the help he needs. I am glad I got to say goodbye to Mom and Pops at the hospital. They said not to be mad at Turner. I’m not. I swear I’m not. But fuck, I’m trying so hard not to hate him.
I pause from reading, my stomach sick and heart breaking. I use my sleeve to dab away the tears as I continue. The mentions of Turner fade for next year, only stating that he’s getting help and staying in the service. The two aren’t talking at that point. It’s not until late 2012 they start again.
December 14, 2012
Turner was awarded the medal of honor tonight. Proud of him. But he didn’t look good. I should talk to him more.
December 20, 2012
I had to pick up Turner today. He is being discharged. He is still sick. I don’t think they fixed him. He brutally attacked his commanding officer. Somehow, they’ve managed not to press charges. I don’t understand, but I got him and brought him to the cabin. We’re all we have. I feel guilty. I wasn’t there for him. I’ll be there for him now. I swear.
January 18, 2013
He doesn’t sleep. He paces. He shouts. He’s messed up in the head. I’m too tired to even write about him. I’m doing everything I can. I swear. I’m taking him to all the specialists. I don’t know what else to do.
March 15, 2013
I’m running out of options. Turner seems to just go dead, and he starts playing war. He flies off the handle and goes for whatever is closest. Then he cries. For days. God something is so wrong, but I don’t know what to do. Why aren’t these doctor’s helping him? I’ve made a call to someone out of state, hoping someone will help me help him.
June 29, 2013
He’s getting better, I think. No outbursts since he started therapy sessions with this new doctor. He tells me he still struggles. He says he can’t help it. Everything goes dark in his head. I don’t understand that, but I hope in time, he can work out of it. I got him a PTSD dog today. Turner named him Gunner.
July 5, 2013
He made it through the fireworks. I’m so proud of him. We’re really getting somewhere.
October 12, 2013
Two years without Taylor. Turner had a bad day today, but he’s okay. He has Gunner.
October 30, 2013
Things feel like they’re on the right track. He’s doing great. I think we’re going to a Halloween party tomorrow. It’ll be good for him.
November 1, 2013
Bad idea. He got into a fight and nearly beat some guy to death. I got him out of there. He left with his rifle this morning, and I don’t know where he went. I know I should go look for him, but he had that dead look in his eyes. I hate to admit that it scares me.
November 23, 2013
Things are okay again. He seems antsy. I sent word to Bradford. I want him to have a good life.
December 24, 2013
His emotions are all over the place. Gunner keeps alerting to an episode. But I don’t understand. He seems lucid. I can’t tell. I’m starting to lose hope. I think my brother is permanently broken. I don’t know what to do, but I think it’s too much for me to handle anymore. He’s going to hurt someone or a whole lot of people. I love him so much, but until he’ll go somewhere to get help, I have to give up. He won’t leave this cabin. It’s like he wants to force himself to be tortured over and over. I need a break.
I shut the book as I finish the last entry and put it back in a daze. Where is Thomas now? Did he take a break and never come back? I stand to my feet, feeling an overwhelming mixture of emotions. All of that took place over ten years ago. A decade. Isn’t that how long it had been since Turner listened to music?
The story starts to mesh together in my mind as I slip out of the room undetected, padding down the stairs and slipping into my hiking boots. His younger brother died in action, his parents died in a car accident a month later, a year after that, Turner was discharged, and then… Where’s Thomas now? Did he abandon Turner?
I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. If Thomas managed to get out of here, I can, too. I take a deep breath and get dressed to head outside. The entries have made me more curious than ever, and I just…
I need to make nice, so I can escape.