Page 5 of Rebel

“How will you support yourself?”

“I’ve got savings.And my discharge benefits.I don’t need much.”

He nodded.“It can be helpful to have a routine after leaving military service.Many veterans struggle with the lack of structure in civilian life.”

“I’m not most veterans.”I shook my head.“Structure is the last thing I want right now.”

“What do you want?”

The question caught me off guard again.What did I want?Freedom.Space.Distance from everything that reminded me of what happened.But deeper than that -- what did I really want?

“I want…” I hesitated, uncertain.“I want to feel safe in my own skin again.”

The admission hung in the air between us.I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.Hadn’t even known I was thinking it until the words were already out.

Dr.Winters didn’t rush to respond.He let the statement exist, giving it weight.

“That’s a good goal,” he said finally.“And a challenging one.”

I looked away again, uncomfortable with having revealed too much.My gaze drifted back to that crack in the corner.“Yeah, well.One day at a time, right?Isn’t that what you people always say?”

“Sometimes clichés become clichés because they contain truth.”He reached into his portfolio and pulled out a pamphlet.“This has information about VA services, including counseling options across the country.Wherever you end up, there will be resources available to you.”

I took the pamphlet without looking at it, folded it, and tucked it into my pocket.I’d probably throw it away later, but refusing it would just prolong this conversation.

“I also want to give you this.”He handed me a business card.“My direct line.If you find yourself needing to talk, I’m available.”

“You do this for all your exit assessments?”I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“No.”His honesty was surprising.“But I think you’re at a particularly vulnerable juncture, whether you want to acknowledge that or not.”

I stiffened.“I’m not vulnerable.”

“Everyone is vulnerable at some point, Rio.There’s no shame in it.”

“Save the greeting card wisdom for someone who cares.”I regretted the words immediately but couldn’t take them back.Couldn’t soften them.

Dr.Winters didn’t seem offended.“Anger is a normal response to trauma --” He caught himself.“To what you experienced.It’s protective.It keeps the deeper pain at bay.”

“Are we done here?”I sat forward, ready to leave.“You’ve assessed me.I’m fine.Can you sign whatever you need to sign so I can go?”

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded.“I can sign off on your assessment.But I want you to consider something.”

I waited, impatient.

“Running from place to place won’t help you outrun what happened.Eventually, you’ll have to stand still long enough to face it.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?”My voice dripped with sarcasm.

“It’s my human experience.”He closed his portfolio.“And yes, also my professional opinion.”

I stood, smoothing the front of my uniform out of habit.“Well, thanks for the assessment.And the life advice.”

He stood as well, extending his hand again.“Take care of yourself, Rio.And remember, reaching out for help is a sign of strength, not weakness.”

I shook his hand briefly.“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I wouldn’t.Or at least, I told myself I wouldn’t.But I took his card anyway, slipping it into the same pocket as the pamphlet.

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