PTSD is a real and very present issue with service members. I had friends who suffered from it.
Most who came home were affected by the war in some way. It didn’t have to be PTSD, though that is where civilians’ thoughts always seemed to go.
Simply put, war affects you. It changes you. It should.
It’s hard to put into words for people who’ve never experience it, but being over there was like having every nerve in your body stripped raw and then wound tight. So tight that just the smallest pressure could send you to angry town.
Time and distance helped with recovery. Pressure from the people who should accept you and their relentless pushing for you to be just as you were, didn’t.
Tears welled in Jenna’s eyes,“I’m sorry, Lena. Can you forgive me?”
I crossed to my sister and pulled her into a hug.“There’s nothing to forgive.”
We held each other for several long minutes. I felt the sun rise, that burning ball of fire reminding me whyI’d had to pull back, had to let them keep their misconceptions.
I drew away and gave Jenna a shaky smile.“How about you go find mom and dad and get something to eat? You’ll need your strength for today. I can sit with Linda until you get back.”
She hesitated, the struggle between staying with her daughter and finding something to eat visible.
She nodded, crossing to Linda and bending down to place a kiss on her forehead, her pain obvious to anyone watching.
She squeezed my arm as she went by.
I waited until she was out the door before going to Linda’s bed and taking a seat beside her. I reached for her hand.“You’re going to be okay, little girl. I know this might seem scary right now, but your Aunt Aileen is going to figure this out.”
Even if she had to kill a lot of people to do it. My niece was not going to lay bedridden a minute longer than she had to.
Liam entered seconds after Jenna left, his thoughtful gaze taking in the two of us.
“Could your old girlfriend have done this?” I asked, not wasting any time.
I needed to know.
Liam moved closer, his path silent. His hand went to Linda’s forehead, the touch surprisingly gentle for the deadly enforcer.
“The Fae have many ways to hurt the young,” he said, his voice serious.“Some consider children to be the most delicious of delicacies.”
My hands tightened into fists at that news. My fangs slid down and I let out a small, enraged sound. Liam noted the action but didn’t comment on it.
I closed my eyes and repeated to myself. Linda was safe. We didn’t know yet if the Fae even had anything to do with this. It could be some crazy coincidence.
“What else?” I asked afterI’d calmed sufficiently.
“There are those who place changelings in the child’s place so the parents don’t miss them,” Liam said softly.
“Changelings.” My voice was flat.
“Sometimes they’re lesser Fae who stay for a time. Other times it’s a piece of wood. Always the child sickens and dies after a while,” Liam said.
We both looked at where Linda lay on the bed. The only sign of life the lift of her chest and the persistent beep of the machines.
“You think she’s a changeling,” I said, the question a statement.
“I don’t know. It is a practice that has fallen out of favor, though there are occasionally instances where it is still done,” Liam said, choosing his words carefully.“Do you see anything to suggest that might be the case?”
I got up, pacing away.“Nothing. There’s nothing there. Not even a shadow. She looks just like my niece, feels just like her.”
She looked perfectly normal in my othersight. There was no trace of magic.
