Behind The Mask (Nurses Book 2) (6 page)

Fuck. Why am I putting my foot in my mouth today over one bitch? She obviously doesn’t want to know me. Which is fine, because I don’t want to know her. Her beautiful lips, amazing eyes, gorgeous ass and all. Nope, I don’t want to know her at all, I just want to fuck her. Get in, get off, get out. She could probably use a good fucking, and it has been months for me. Before I went to the sandbox I was getting different pussy every day of the week, sometimes twice.

Wheeling to the day room, I see a group of the old timers huddled together. Must be upset about the guy that went down in the hallway. As I’m looking around, out of the corner of my eye I see Cori walk in. She has a grim look on her face, so I know whatever reason she is there isn’t good. An uneasy feeling snakes its way into my chest. I feel like I’m drowning. A crushing weight is sitting on my chest as I struggle to keep my head above water. My vision is blurred, almost tunnel vision.

My breathing comes out in short gasps, and instantly I’m transported to that sandy location, looking at my mangled leg. Or what was left of it.
Nothing but a bloody mess, it looks like ground hamburger meat. All around me, I can smell charring flesh and hear nothing but the guttural screams of my brothers. Ramirez, my closest friend is about ten paces ahead of me with wide unseeing eyes, his lower jaw is barely hanging on. I scream at him to wake up, but he doesn’t blink. He never fucking blinks. Janson, who at the young age of 19 is crying for his momma. It’s annoying as fuck, I just want to shut him up, just one fucking moment of peace. The heat from the fire is becoming unbearable. Darkness is trying to pull me in with her sweet tendrils licking at me threatening to pull me away forever. I wish this was it, I wish this was the end.

“Knight? Knight speak to me, say something! Can you hear me?” A female voice is trying to get to me from a distance. The voice is sweet, and I want nothing more than to listen to it forever, but I’m comfortable here in this darkness. It’s warm and welcoming. I feel no pain.

“Knight, you have to stop. Knight, snap out of it.” There is that voice again. It has a begging quality to it, like the person who owns the voice is scared.
Don’t worry, pretty voice, I’m not in pain anymore. Don’t worry.

I close my eyes to the darkness and let it swallow me up. I don’t hear the pretty voice anymore. I don’t hear anything. I focus on my breathing because breathing lets me know I’m alive. Even though I know when I open my eyes I won’t want to be alive. I never want to be alive. When I open my eyes again, I still see Ramirez, my friend. He and I went through basic together, forging a bond from the second week on, forging a brotherhood from the moment we got dropped off in this shitbox.

“Ramirez, I’m so sorry.” I cry towards him, but all that looks back at me is open unseeing eyes.

When I open my eyes again, the sandbox is all I see.

I’m worried. Knight isn’t snapping out of whatever flashback he’s in. His nails are digging into the arm pads on his wheelchair, and I know that even though he seems to be looking around, his mind is someplace else. It’s heartbreaking to witness him in such a vulnerable position. It’s a position I know all too well. I wake up every night with the nightmares that plague my soul. I know when the darkness has someone in its clutches, and right now Knight is in her hands. Only time can bring a person out of the darkness, and I’m going to wait right here until he is out of it. But that doesn’t mean that this isn’t a heartbreaking sight to see. A man who looks so strong in the few times I have seen him now looks so vulnerable and young.

“Knight, I just need you to look at me! Please!” I put a little more plea into my voice, in the hopes that it helps him know that someone is scared for him. Looking around I see all of the other patients staring with concern etched on their faces. Even though I don’t know Knight very well, I know he wouldn’t want anyone to see him this way. Hell, this seemed to be a big step in having him leave his room. I hope this doesn’t set him back any, because it is so easy to go back to what is comfortable, pushing people away.

“Everybody out! Right now, you don’t have to go to the hallway but you can’t be in here. Thank you!” Rude, I know, but he needs his privacy, nobody should have to go through this with a roomful of people staring at him. I’m only going to be in here to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. People do crazy things when going through flashbacks. I have heard of people jumping out of windows to get away from the darkness.

People start meandering out of the room, and as I turn my attention back to Knight I see his eyes are closed and he’s mumbling to himself. Too quiet for me to hear, I lean down and hear him whispering to himself ‘Ramirez, I’m so sorry’ over and over again. Chanting it as if it’s his only hope and lifeline. He’s clinging to the words like he’s clinging to this wheelchair as if it’s a life preserver. Keeping him grounded somehow, even though he doesn’t seem to be in the present with me.

“Knight, I need you to look at me, focus on me, and breathe with me.” I make exaggerated breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, even with his eyes closed, I hope he has the ability to hear me. He needs to follow my lead, and he needs to calm himself before he hyperventilates and passes out. His breaths are coming out in short, rapid bursts, and sweat is dripping down his face. His fingers haven’t relaxed on the padding, and I’m starting to worry. What feels like hours passes, though I’m sure it’s only been minutes.

I don’t know what to do, I really have no PTSD training, I only have PTSD, so all I can think of is coping techniques my therapists have said. I kneel on the floor next to his wheelchair and try to cover my hand with his and hope that he relaxes. His hold on the chair is scary, his knuckles are straight white with white streaks going down his fingers.

All I can do is sit here and hope that it passes soon. It’s a scary thing to go through flashbacks. I know from my own personal experience. It cripples you on the outside while your insides are waging its own war with whatever you are battling. He must carry some deep, dark trauma. Maybe that’s why I find him so attractive, we are both wounded to the core. Wounded calls to wounded, like a sick and sad love song.

After kneeling here so long my knees and toes have gone to sleep, I notice that his breathing is starting to slow down. He must be coming out of his own personal hell. He is drenched in sweat, but his grip still hasn’t relaxed. He looks so larger than life sitting here, but at the same time has the same vulnerability of a child.

“Knight, can you hear me?”

“Gage. Call me Gage,” he bites out through clenched teeth. We seem to be through the thick of it, now he just has to deal with the aftermath. I look up and see his stunning green eyes, they are red-rimmed like he has been crying. Streaks of red go through the whites of his eyes like the pressure had built up in his head. He looks angry, though, his mouth is in a straight line on his beautiful face.

“Ok, Gage, do you know where you are?” I try to keep my voice soothing and not to ask  tough questions.

“Yes, I know where the fuck I am, what I’m trying to figure out is why the fuck you’re still here, kneeling down on the floor like some dog. Care to explain that? Or were you going to perform an after flashback blow job? Dick’s not hard right now, but I’m sure once your mouth is on it, he will jump right up. So what do you say, princess?”

He apparently has his sassy pants on now, because his tone is indignant as if my being here is putting him off in some way. I want nothing more than to slap the shit out of him right now. But I know my defense mechanisms, and an outward display of anger is one of them. He’s not angry at me, he is angry at himself and his situation. He probably uses his crudeness to deflect his embarrassment.

“Well then. I will leave you to it. Because I don’t deserve to be talked to that way, especially when I was just doing my job and trying to help you.” Standing up and brushing my knees off, I try not to spare him a glance. It’s hard because every fiber in me is saying he needs me.

“Now, Cori, we both know it’s not just your job, so why don’t you slide them pants off and have a seat right here.” He grabs his crotch as he tells me where to take a seat at. My eyes leave his face, linger on his broad chest for a bit before I look at the bulge in his pants. For some sick reason, he seems to be turned on by this.

“Fuck off, Gage.”

“Tsk, tsk, is it proper procedure to be cussing at a patient?” Well, he has me there, but if I cared more about losing my job I wouldn’t have said it in the first place.

“It’s also not proper procedure for a patient to be sexually harassing an employee, let alone someone still in the military like yourself. But that is neither here nor there. You seem embarrassed Gage, and I was just trying to help, and I don’t mean help with your little problem.” With that, I turn and walk out the door. I don’t need him trying to get under my skin.

“Hey, Cori, is he ok in there?” It’s Allyn. I know he’s the gossip of the floor, but he has a look of genuine concern on his face. It endears me to the old man a little bit more. The concern these guys show each other is something that makes me want to let my guard down a little bit. It makes me think of working with Olivia again, and Mary. Mary was tortured right along with me, but I survived. Guilt doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel that she didn’t make it, and I did. But we had an awesome working relationship, the three of us knowing what the other needed or anticipating the others moves. I miss her daily, and the guilt has not eased up yet.

I visit her grave often to say my apologies to her. I haven’t talked to her family, but I’m sure they hate me for surviving when she didn’t. Hell, I hate me for it. If anybody deserved to make it, it was her. She had a family, kids, hell she had a grandkid on the way. One that will never know how awesome of a lady she was.

“He’s getting it back together, just give him a few more minutes before you go in.” He just nods at me. Allyn seems to be one of the good guys. Concerned for a man who doesn’t give anyone the time of day. Hell, I shouldn’t be concerned about Gage, but there is something about him that makes me want to know about him. Know how he works, how he thinks, how he feels, and have him tell me his secrets.

Holy shit! I struggle for breath, struggle for something to help me. Because I cannot deal with this anymore. The smell of burning bodies fills my nose, and it’s an acrid smell that I will never get used to. I want to gag, just like I did on that day, but somewhere in the back of my head, I know that this isn’t real. Well, it was real, it was very real at a certain point in time, but it isn’t real right now. That is the only thing keeping me from emptying my stomach where I lay.

The smells are all the same. The sights in my mind’s eye are all the same. Mangled, broken bodies all around me, laying on the desert floor, my blood mixing with the sand to make a congealed mess underneath me. For some reason, though, my leg isn’t in pain. It never seems to be in pain when this happens. That also helps remind me that this isn’t real, this isn’t happening right in this second. This is just a flashback, and if I sit and do nothing then it will all end.