Page 76 of Hearts Held
Too much loss.
My hands wrap a tourniquet around a young man’s arm as his tearstained face is racked with agony and horror. His scream pierces my soul.
I try to tighten the contraption, but no matter how hard I pull, the blood will not cease. The thick scarlet liquid pools across the cot, through our clothing and onto the floor.
I look around to try to find another nurse or provider to assist me, but there is no one. Only the litter of bodies scattered across makeshift hospital. Each man is moaning, hollering and screaming. It echoes so loudly, the heavens could probably hear, though no one comes to save us.
One scream distinctly calls to me.
I turn to find Everett on one of the mangled cots and begin sprinting toward him, leaving the poor soul I tried to mend.
Everett is writhing atop the cot, his naked body covered in sticky blood. Some of the wounds have scabbed, though some lacerations remain open and oozing puss. Swiftly I begin my assessment, trying to find his affliction. The lacerations are wrapped around his abdomen, his neck and each of his limbs. Part of his body has been filleted, and there are various burns on his thighs.
“Everett.” I try to gain his attention but he continues his harrowing screams. I don’t understand what ails him, though I continue my ministrations, cleaning the open wounds and wrapping gauze around his limbs, still trying to gain his attention: “Everett. Everett, dear.All will be well. I’m here.” Tears well from the frustration of not being able to rapidly soothe him.
As I look down to wrap the last of the gauze, I narrow my eyes. For the gauze in my hand is now silk sheets. I blink swiftly, trying to regain my focus, figuring I’m going insane from the stress of the scenario. Though the scene disappears around me.
I’m sitting up in a large wood-framed bed, grasping the sheets around me. Peering down, I find Everett screaming and writhing within his bed. I approach his vast form carefully, so as not to startle him from his night terror.
I calmly state his name, then raise my voice with each passing moment he does not wake. Slowly I touch his trembling hand and tell him, “Everett, I’m here. All is well, love.” The scars etched into his body gain my attention.
I did not notice them during our moment of passion, though I now realize how extensive they are. Just as they were in my dream, along each limb, his abdomen. I had always noticed the ones peeking from his collar, though I never inquired.
Before I realize it, empathetic tears slowly fall from my eyes. His eyes spring open when I lay two fingers on his forearm. He moves swiftly, grasping my throat and pinning me onto the bed.
I gasp out his name.
The force of his hand constricts my airway. I claw at his hands, trying to find purchase.
Then I take one of my hands and reach for his white locks and pull his hair.
His narrowed amber eyes flash with recognition as he lets go.
“Fuck,”he painfully states as he backs away from my frame. Pain and regret fill his face. “Brielle, I’m so sorry. If you want to leave—” I cut him off with a kiss before he may finish his sentence. His reaction is to freeze with surprise and then melt his strong arms around me.
I just need him.
I want him to be comforted by me. I want to give him support I wish I had whenever my night terrors haunted me.
We sit in perfect silent melancholy for a few moments, then his voice breaks thesilence.
“My scars may not be the same as yours, but I understand the affliction,” he whispers into my neck. “I’m sorry for attacking you.”
I pull back to see his face and place my hands on either side of his jaw.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” I acknowledge. “I’m sorry it happened.”
His eyes crinkle as a small chuckle escapes him.
“You know, it isn’t anyone’s fault but the Krauts’. Though you are the first person to apologize for me being a POW. Granted, I never elaborated to my family, though they never asked,” he states.
I turn my head to the side. “Not even Baba?”
He looks off to the ceiling in contemplation. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she wanted to open that ‘wound,’ so to speak.”
Pulling him in closer, I kiss his cheek and drink him in, taking in this intimate moment of peace.
His hand snakes between my breasts as his strong palm pushes me back onto the silk-sheeted bed.
