Page 35 of Make Me Trust Again
“Fuck, yeah. I’m so ready for that,” Sam, another one of our unit members, chimes in, rubbing his hands together.
“What you gonna do?”
“Go back home to my girl. I got the ring before leaving, so I can have something to look forward to.” Sam tips his chin at Lucas. “What about you?”
“My sister is graduating soon.” His grin widens, pride shining on his face. Lucas always talks about his genius sister and how freaking proud he is of her. “I hope to give her a surpri?—”
His words are cut short by a blast. My head snaps back, helmet hitting the back of the truck so hard spots appear before my eyes. All the air is kicked out of my lungs, leaving the burning sensation filling my gut. My body feels heavy and weightless at the same time as the truck goes flying. I blink furiously, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. But there is only fire and pain.
I sit upright, my chest heaving as I fight for breath. My mouth is dry, my sweaty skin making the shirt cling to my flesh. I swallow hard, and I swear I can feel the heaviness in my lungs from the sand in the air.
It’s all in your head.
I take in the space around me.
The old armchair.
The pictures hanging on the walls.
The light from the TV illuminates the darkness of the room.
The knitted blanket that slipped to the floor from my tossing and turning.
Nightmare.
It was just a nightmare.
A snout nudges my leg, a soft whine registering through the pounding of the blood still ringing in my ears. I let my hand fall on Shadow’s head, finding comfort in her solid strength as she rests her head on my thigh. Lifting my free hand, I run it over my face, feeling the prickle of stubble on my jaw as I stare at the ceiling, fighting for breath. The vivid images still play in my head on repeat, making the bile rise up my throat.
Cursing, I push to my feet. My muscles feel stiff from falling asleep on the couch, but I ignore the pain as I walk to the kitchen. The floorboards groan under my weight as I make my way to the fridge, not bothering with light. Grabbing a bottle of water, I drain it in one go, but it barely makes a difference.
There is no erasing the feeling of sand filling my mouth.
Just like there is no erasing the demons playing in my mind, taunting and waiting for their chance to strike.
My fingers tighten around the bottle, squishing it in my fist as I fight through consistent ringing in my head.
The ringing makes the pressure in my chest grow heavier. A knot forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
The bottle slips from my grasp and falls into the sink. I grip the counter to steady myself, my fingers itching to do something. I’m wound up, balancing the fine line, and I know that at any moment I can tip over.
And there is only one way I know how to deal with that.
Only one way to fight this darkness swirling inside me.
Destruction.
The loud ringing of my phone startles me from the daze I was under for God only knows how long. Panting, I grab it from the counter and check the caller ID, cursing softly as I connect the call.
“Can you tell Becky to stop riding my ass?”
“Hello to you, too, little brother,” I say sarcastically in a way of greeting—not that he cares—as I take in the space around me.
The kitchen is bare. The old counters are out in the backyard. The wallpaper has been ripped from the walls, as were the old, creaking floorboards.
The room is completely empty.
Some of the weight falls off my shoulders as I suck in a long breath, feeling like I can breathe for the first time today.
