“You’re not a bad man, Oak. You’re not,” she says adamantly.
And I want to believe her, I do, but I can’t. Not when I’m feeling like this. Flayed open and raw. Broken into a million fucking pieces, scrambling with bloody fingers to piece myself back together.
It’s all suffocating me.
I can smell the gunpowder in the air. I can taste the metallic heavy in my mouth. I see their faces before me.
Before I get dragged into the dark abyss, afraid that I might take Grace with me, I remove her from my lap a bit more forceful than I would like.
My chest heaves as I try to draw in air.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Feeling out of control I rise from the chair and put as much distance between us. I tuck myself away in the corner of the bedroom with my shoulders plastered to the wall.
Around me I can see the smoke from the residual of the rifles filling the space. Squeezing my eyes shut I see them all looking at me for a way out of it.
Oh god.
No.
No!
“I did this to them.” My voice rises as I slap my hand against my chest. I open my eyes and find Grace in the middle of the room slowly approaching me like I’m a wild hurt animal. “I did! Me! I killed them!” I slap my hand harder against my chest until I feel the sting against my palm.
She shakes her head, eyes steady and calm on mine. Her voice is even and gentle as she says, “It wasn’t your fault. They all decided to push ahead, Oak.”
My face twists with anguish. My heart feels like it’s being torn from my chest. “But I made the final decision. I could’ve said no.”
“You could have,” she agrees, “but that’s not what they wanted, Oak. They wanted to save those kids. And you did too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut again as I see them lying on the ground, their blood pooling around them.
Fuck, I can’t do this.
“Oak,” she calls my name softly. “I need you to breathe.” By the sound of her voice I can tell she has gotten closer. And when she instructs, “Just breathe with me, okay?” I know that she’s managed to close the distance I created between us.
“I should have saved them, Grace!” I shout as my breaths come out in pants. God, I can’t fucking breathe. “I should have have died with them!”
“Come on,” she encourages me softly. “One long breath in and one long exhale.” I do as she says and take one long ragged breath in that burns my fucking lungs and release the shakiest exhale. “It’s okay. You’re with me. Everything is okay.” I thenfeel her hand close around mine that I have fished against my shirt right above my heart. I smell her scent, jasmine, as she closes the distance between us. And I feel her lips press softly against my hand. “Open your eyes and look at me, Oak. You’re not in Iraq. You’re here. With me. You’re here, with me, right where you belong.”
And that’s when I fucking break.
Because ever since I’ve been home I’ve never once felt like I belonged to be here.
I crash down to the floor with my head in my hands as hot tears stream endlessly down my face.
Needing her to anchor me to the present I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me. I bury my face against her stomach and hold onto her desperately, fiercely.
Her hands run through my hair soothingly. She stands strong before me. A pillar of strength as I break apart from my guilt and sorrow.
And for the first time in almost ten years I allow myself to grieve.
Gracie Mae
The most painful thing you will ever experience is not your own pain, but from seeing the pain engulf the person you love.
