“Oh, my god.” She pushed against him as she sat up. Her hand flew to her opened mouth. “No.”
Gabe pulled away instantly, picking up on the alarmed tone of her voice. Without hesitation, he came around the couch and sat down beside her. “What is it?” His strong hand reached out for hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Shh!” She held a hand up, motioning for him to get quiet so she could hear.
Focused on the picture filling the screen, Ellena could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“Tragically, the number of deaths among United States Veterans due to suicide is still rising. The country’s most recent loss, a young soldier by the name of Mark Ellis. Just this week, a relative discovered Mr. Ellis’s body in his San Diego apartment after she hadn’t heard from him in several days. The medical examiner’s official cause of death? Self-inflicted gunshot to the head. As the number of suicides within the veteran community shows no sign of dropping, those of us are left wondering, what will it take to end this tragic trend?”
“Jesus,” Gabe muttered beside her.
The anchorwoman moved on to the next story, but Ellena was still frozen by the one she’d just listened to. Bits of memories flashed through her mind, tiny slivers she couldn’t quite put together to form the whole picture.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring at the screen from behind her tears before Gabe finally spoke again.
“Who was he?” he asked, his voice low and filled with sympathy.
“Mark’s a…” Her voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Markwasa patient of mine.”
“Ah, Elle.” Putting his arm around her shoulders, Gabe pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” Ellena wiped her face dry with her palms. “I knew he was troubled, but I never pegged him as suicidal. Even at his worst, he never mentioned wanting to harm himself or acted as if he were giving up. If anything, he was scared to die and doing everything he could tolive.”
“What do you mean?” Gabe asked, the question immediately followed with, “When was the last time you saw him?”
“The day of my wreck.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.
Gabe stiffened beside her. “You remember?”
Ellena swung her widened gaze to his. “I do. I didn’t even realize it until just now, but…I remember seeing Mark that day. He came in unexpectedly. Showed up right before I left the hospital.”
Shifting to face her more directly, Gabe frowned. “He didn’t have an appointment?”
“No. We weren’t scheduled to meet until the following week. I mean, I can check the computer, but I’m almost certain of it.”
“Do you remember what the two of you talked about?”
Ellena hesitated, but then another memory hit. A very clear memory of Mark begging her to help him. To go to the authorities…to tellsomeonewhat he’d told her so they could both be safe again.
By doing that, he’d very clearly given her permission to share what they’d talked about during that last session. That meant, by law, she was free to do so.
“He thought someone was following him.”
“He what?” Gabe’s brows rose high.
“Mark suffered from a pretty bad case of PTSD. His biggest issue was suffering from paranoid delusions. He and his team were cornered by a group of insurgents. They were being picked off, one by one, when reinforcements were finally able to get to them. Mark and another young man were the only two to make it out alive.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Almost immediately after, Mark began suffering from night terrors. Things progressed quickly from then on. He seemed to be getting better. At least, I thought he was. But then, when he burst into my office that night…” Ellena trailed off, swallowing back the outpouring of guilt Mark’s death had caused before continuing on. “I thought that’s all it was. Just another episode of his manic paranoia.”
“I take it you don’t think that anymore?”
Ellena shook her head. From the look on Gabe’s face, neither did he.
“I…I’d forgotten until now, but I remember the fear in his eyes when he came to me that day. It was different than the other times before.”
“Different, how?”
