When James nodded, Troy held the cup and straw for him. Troy noticed from the braces he was wearing that his shoulders had been dislocated. “I’ve got it. It has to hurt to lift your arms.”He watched him sip greedily. “Are the doctors pushing a lot of pills? They don’t get it. Everyone wants you to feel normal again.”
Troy paused to give James time to absorb his words. “Your folks giving you a hard time? Mom wants to baby you, and Dad wants to pretend it never happened. He’s confused and embarrassed. The doctors want a quick fix. The Marines would prefer you kept it to yourself. The police want answers. I can tell you: it’s not going to happen on anyone’s timetable but yours,” he said. Statements took trust, and trust took time.
James turned his head and stared at Troy, meeting his eyes. “They all want too much,” he said in a scratchy voice.
“Who are ‘they’?”Troy maintained a safe distance.
“My parents, the psychiatrists, the surgeons, the military police, NCIS. They all ask the same questions over and over. The psychiatrist keeps telling me I’m burying my latent gay tendencies and am afraid. The cops think it was consensual. I hurt everywhere. I’m… It’s… I’m so tired,” James whispered.
A surge of pain welled up inside Troy. “My first question—and this is not about anyone but you—do you want Chase Security to help you sort this out?”
“My parents are paying you. They keep telling me I can’t make my own decisions.” His breathing cycled in a drugged rhythm.
Troy’s eyes locked with his. “James, this is about whatyouwant, and if they stop paying, we will still follow through. We never leave anyone behind.”
“Do you have to tell my folks everything?” he begged.
“Only what you say I can.”
James’s eyes widened. “Okay.” He inhaled and exhaled with a shudder.
“If I could do one thing for you, what would it be?”Troy’s features softened.
“Make it stop. I can’t stop seeing what happened.” He tried to reach for his head and cried out in pain.
Troy grasped his hand between his. “Ican’t make it stop, but I can helpyoumake it stop. It comes with time and with support from some good people.”
“How do you know? You’re like everyone else,” he spat.
Troy sighed heavily. “You’re the first out of my immediate circle that I’m telling… But last August, I was working undercover. The op went wrong, and I was beaten, sodomized and raped. A week from this Friday, I’m having another surgery to fix more of the damage they caused.” Troy felt tightness in his chest, but he managed to get the words out.
James’s breath rattled in his chest. “I’m sorry. Help me make it stop.”
“I’ll do my best.” Troy unlocked his phone and texted Tim Holland.
Troy:Need James Richmond transferred to our unit. He’s medical and psych. Can you start the ball rolling?
Tim:Affirmative. Need to assess his competence to make decisions, otherwise will get parental consent.
Troy:Ordering security and food pre-transport.
Troy turned to James. “I’m arranging to have you transported to another medical facility. The staff there will support you through this, and you and I will talk some more. I don’t want to get the hospital staff mad at us, so I am going to leave in a few minutes. My friend Tim Holland is here speaking with your parents. He’s a physician assistant. Will you let him examine you?”
He teared up. “He won’t tell me what happened wasn’t real?”
“No. He needs to make sure it’s safe to transfer you. I’ll come back and say goodnight before we leave. Two people who work for me will come to stay with you until we can transport you. When they come, I can have them bring something to eat. Nothing too heavy—I puked on one of my ambulance rides.” His lips quirked up.
“Do you think a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a Coke is too much?” His eyes brightened a bit.
“No. I’ll make sure it gets here.” Troy smiled again.
Tim knocked on the door and entered. “Hi, James, I’m Troy’s friend, Tim.”
* * *
The rideback to the building was quiet. Troy stared out the passenger window.
“You broke through,” Tim said.
