Page 101 of Gorgeous

“Cade.” A guy, presumed to be in his late fifties, steps out behind the curtain. I’ve never met him before so I don’t quite know what to expect but I do know who he is.

He’s the artist that tattooed nearly my brother’s entire body.

“Chris?” I call, catching Theo’s questioning brow.

Chris charges over to me, a huge smile poking out through a facial tattoo of a skull. “Man,” he says while clasping my hand, “it’s good to finally meet you. Your brother talked about you often.” He gives me a quizzical look though, stepping back a little. “Although he said you were much smaller.”

I snort. Fucking Drew and his bullshit. “He wished,” is all I can respond with, the comment not causing pain like it used to.

“You know what you want?” The man with almost one hundred percent of his body covered in tattoos asks me.

I nod, pulling the napkin from my pocket. I scribbled out something rough last night and I’m hoping he can make it look a shit ton better than I drew it. “Obviously something better than this, but essentially this is what I want.”

Chris studies the drawing and then looks at me. “This is big. Gonna be painful.”

I tip my chin, my gaze floating over to Theo who is totally eavesdropping on our conversation. “I can handle it,” I say, flipping Theo off with my hand down at my side.

“Alright then, come on.”

Four painful hours later, I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror, flesh raw and swollen, the entire left side of my torso covered in a barren tree. The branches are engulfed in flames, turning to ash as a fiery phoenix rises from the dirt, consuming it with its blaze. The roots hold the tree strong as the crows fly from its branches.

The tree is my body.

The roots are my family.

The phoenix, my rebirth, burning away the demons that haunt my soul.

I’m starting over.

I’m rising from the ashes.

I’m letting go.

And I’m going to make all of them proud.

Starting with my jelly girl.

Dear B,

Shame is a crazy thing. I did something today that I’m embarrassed to even tell you about, but I’m going to anyway because the guilt eats at me like a virus. I failed one of the simplest exercises today. I thought I would be discharged from the program it was that bad. There was no way I could come home and face Mom and Dad. I’ll save you from the worst of it, but later that evening after the major did barrack checks, I slipped into the jon, took my razor blade, and sliced open a vein on my wrist. As the blood pooled in the sink, I panicked. I couldn’t leave you alone with our parents. I instantly regretted my decision and tried to stop the bleeding when someone banged on the door. I knew I would be out of the program once they found me like this with a blade in my hand. When I didn’t answer the knock, the door flew open and Major Jameson stood there, nostrils flaring, looking very pissed off. He snatched my wrist, held pressure with his hand, and pulled me out of the bathroom. We went to his private quarters where he stayed silent, fury being the only emotion radiating from his person. He told me I better not make a fucking sound, and then doused my wrist in something that felt like liquid fire. I felt like I was burning from the inside out but I held it in. He wrapped my wrist and then sat across from me and said, “Even when you die you don’t leave this brotherhood.” I didn’t know what he meant until he kept on, “My blood is your blood. In your darkest hour, call on me, and we’ll fight together. Semper Fi, brother.” It finally hit me that I didn’t just take a job in the military. I entered a family. A family is only as strong as its weakest link. Major made me swear to never do this again, which is against protocol, and then every night, he showed up after everyone was asleep, and we trained. I’m so sorry, B. I never wanted to leave you. Please know that. I’m just so scared of being a failure to you.

I need to go.

Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I finally feel like I’ve found my place.

I’m finally home, B.

#iwishiwasastrongasyou #wonderwomandoesnthaveshitonyou #youstillsuckthough

Private Bennett Brannon

“Even in death you don’t leave this brotherhood. In your darkest hour you can call on me and we’ll fight together. My blood is your blood.” I stare at one of Bennett’s first letters to me.

I’d like to think the reason I packed up everything to come for Cade was because Bennett would have wanted me to. Because even in death, he couldn’t leave the brotherhood. The duty passed to me, and in Cade’s darkest hour, he needed someone to fight with him. But after crying over all Bennett’s old letters, I realized that the reason I felt so compelled to come here was not because I owed it to Bennett, or owed Cade a debt. It’s because each letter my brother sent made me fall in love with this hero. This man he respected. The man who saved his life and was there for him when no one else was.

His brotherhood.

I loved Cade Jameson before I ever laid eyes on him that day on Skype. I missed the letters my brother sent, giving me a glimpse into Cade’s life. I had to see him. I had to make sure he was okay. My heart hurt knowing he was alone and had no one to fight alongside him. He needed an ally, and although grief and sadness were mixed in with my initial reasons to set out on this journey, my intent was solid.

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