My fingers twitched against the chair’s arms.
“Head down. We’re gonna give you a fade.”
I had no idea what that meant.
But I surrendered to Sebastian’s ministrations, knowing that questioning every phrase in this strange world would only make me look more foolish.
Lee and Sebastian continued chatting easily as if they had known each other for years.
Then, Sebastian pressed the buzzing device to my head.
The vibration rattled against my skull, and thick hair waves tumbled to the floor.
I stiffened.
Panic seized my chest as more and more of my hair fell around me.
I wasn’t vain but had always taken pride in my strong, warrior’s appearance.
What would Olivia think when she saw me again?
Olivia, my love… I hope to be with you soon. Once we find this Tristan fellow…
Sebastian laid the buzzing device down.
I exhaled in relief.
But long strands of hair still hung in my eyes.
Sebastian lifted sections of my remaining hair, snipping occasionally as he continued his conversation with Lee.
Then, satisfied, he picked up the buzzing tool again—this time, he fitted something over the tip.
He brought it toward my jaw.
Instinct took over.
I jerked my head back, my pulse spiking.
Sebastian stopped mid-motion, eyebrows lifting in alarm. “Whoa, man—what did I do?”
Lee turned to him. “PTSD. Roman’s got it bad.”
Sebastian nodded knowingly. “Yeah. I get it. I’ve got it, too.”
Lee faced me. “Easy, Roman. He’s just gonna tidy up your beard. Clean you up a little. It’s not going to hurt.”
I stared at the buzzing device in Sebastian’s hand. Then, at Sebastian himself.
I swallowed and forced a nod. “Please proceed. I’m sorry I reacted.”
Sebastian waved it off. “Don’t worry about it, man. I get it.” He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering with something distant and raw. “The weirdest things can trigger it. And then—bam!—you’re right back on the battlefield.”
His jaw tightened. His gaze went somewhere else entirely.
“My kids’ laughter echoes through the house,” he murmured, voice hollow. “Then, a siren wails. A dog barks. Somewhere, a mother cries.” His hands gripped the chair’s armrest. “I live with this… constant hum, this buzz in my ears. Gunfire. Explosions. Screams. I hear the death rattle of the men I failed to save. The screams of…”
His voice faltered. His shoulders tensed. Then, with a shake, he blinked back to the present. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “This fucking PTSD sneaks up on you when you least expect it.”
