Page 99 of From Rivals to I Do

We continue to pour our pent-up frustrations out onto each other, the argument echoing off the walls, each word a reflection of the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath the surface. The swishing water around us is nothing compared to the storm of emotions brewing between us. I reflect on what really pushed me to get Amber to safety. I almost want to regret it, but I try to get calm.

I get myself together and move some distance away from Amber. I crouch to the ground and wonder what actually went on. I look back at Amber, and she’s still crouched, head between her knees. From where I am, I can hear her uncalculated breathing. She’s probably thinking like I am—if this would all end fine. She looks calmed, but I don’t feel entirely sorry for her, at this moment.

A heavy thud resounds from somewhere beneath us. I notice Amber’s involuntary shiver, a clear indication of her fear. It’s at that moment that my thoughts are whisked away, descending into the depths of a memory long buried by the sands of time.

I find myself back in a time when I was still a Navy SEAL, a period etched with indelible scars. It was a mission, just like any other, or so we thought. That night was filled with ear-shattering explosions and the incessant chatter of gunfire. My comrades and I were in the midst of it all, moving with precision and determination, when a series of bombings rocked our world.

Two of my closest friends, comrades who had stood beside me in countless battles, fell victim to the relentless violence. As their lifeless bodies lay beside me, I had no choice but to feign death, to mimic their stillness and hope it would keep me hidden from the enemy’s watchful eyes.

The minutes stretched into eternities as I lay there, contemplating my own fate. My pulse drummed loudly in my ears; each beat a countdown to what felt like impending doom. I wondered if this was how it would end, a somber yet resolute acceptance of fate.

But against all odds, the relentless onslaught eventually ceased. The enemies moved on, and I emerged from my morbid sanctuary, haunted by the ghosts of those I had lost that night. It was a narrow escape, a dance with death that left a permanent mark on my soul.

The weight of those memories still linger. I can’t help but wonder if the feeling of impending catastrophe, is how I’m currently feeling. I’ve survived battles and perilous situations before but the way all this has crouched in, has brought an entirely new form of dread. It’s a sensation that consumes me, challenging my facade of strength, and reminding me of the fragility of life in the most profound way.

I glance back at Amber, and she remains in the same petrified position. She turns her gaze toward me, and I quickly avert my eyes, choosing instead to stretch out on the concrete floor. My head rests on my palms, hands stacked one over the other, as I close my eyes, drifting into a restless slumber.

In the world of dreams, I’m transported back to my childhood, to a time when I was just a small, vulnerable boy. In the ethereal landscape of my subconscious, I see my father. He’s approaching me with a menacing metal rod clutched in his hands, and a storm of rage in his eyes. I had been running from him, fleeing as fast as my little legs could carry me until there was no more escape. My back pressed firmly against a cold, unforgiving wall, and I cried out desperately, “Please!” The memories of that childhood fear, etched into my psyche, continue to haunt me, even as I traverse the realm of dreams.

He doesn’t stop his charge toward me, as soon as he is close, he raises the rod and strikes my side severely. Just then, I immediately awake to find someone tapping my side. I’m not yet fully separated from my trance, so I feel I’m still in the same bewilderment, and I scream at Amber, "Get your hands off of me" and swing my arm out as a defense mechanism. Once I realize that it’s Amber, I try to apologize quickly. But before I can say much of anything, she begins to crawl back to where she was.

Chapter fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

The relentless roar of the tsunami slowly yields to an eerie hush, leaving behind a stifling silence in the cold on the cold concrete rooftop. The passage of time in our subterranean refuge is marked only by the beating of our own hearts, and it feels as if the very world is holding its breath, anxiously awaiting the next act in this calamity.

My gaze wanders upward, toward the beautiful blue sky and the star's lights like a candle, and Derrick’s eyes follow mine I am drawn to a slender thread of water overflowing onto the dry roof. It's a slow haunting reminder of the world around us. Each drop carries with it the weight of our uncertainty, the fear of the unknown, and the tangled threads of our complicated situation.

Derrick draws nearer to me, crawling on the ground closer toward me. The air is heavy with the unsaid, the unexpressed emotions that have built up over time. His voice eventually breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words heavy with remorse. I avoid his gaze, my silence echoing in the cramped space. His attempt to bridge the gap feels like an admission of guilt, an acknowledgment of whatever distaste that has lingered between us.

When his hand reaches out to mine, I instinctively recoil, as if an electric shock passed between us. “Ouch,” I mutter, withdrawing my hand, more from habit than genuine pain. The tangible evidence of our disconnectedness is almost unbearable.

“Let me see,” Derrick offers, his voice soft but filled with a genuine concern that I haven’t witnessed from him before. He stands up and moves to a corner of the rooftop where a small first aid kit sits, waiting to be of use.

I watch him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he retrieves the kit. It’s a stark contrast to the image of a man who’s faced adversity, and whose hands bear the marks of a rugged past. I’m drawn to the gentle dexterity in his movements as he selects the necessary supplies.

Derrick returns to my side, the first aid kit in hand. I stretch my hand out hesitantly, watching as he carefully inspects the cut beneath my thumb. His touch, although tender, sends an unanticipated shiver down my spine. It’s as if I’m seeing a side of him I never knew existed, a side that speaks of compassion and the desire to mend not just physical wounds but perhaps the emotional ones as well.

His hands move with a grace I hadn’t expected, his actions precise and measured. The cool sensation of an antiseptic wipe sends a tingling sensation through my skin, and I can’t help but notice the care he takes in ensuring it doesn’t sting. When he expertly applies an adhesive bandage, our fingers brush for an instant, sending a strange yet not unwelcome spark to my nerves.

We sit in the dimly lit rooftop the air thick with the scent of antiseptic, and I find myself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Derrick’s unexpected tenderness has brought an unexpected warmth to this cold, dark sky. The quietude is thick with our unspoken frustrations, and the room becomes an echoing chamber of emotions. I finally tear my gaze from his and focus on the dimly lit rooftop, where the world beneath has fallen silent, its tumult replaced by an oppressive void.

After what feels like an eternity, I find my voice, hesitant yet hopeful. “Do you think it’s safe to return downstairs?” I ask, my words almost swallowed by the vastness of our surroundings. The uncertainty in my voice is palpable, a reflection of the fear that gnaws at me.

Derrick nods, his posture exuding both anxiety and determination. “It’s been hours, maybe six or seven,” he replies. “We should check.”

We rise with fragile hope in our hearts, venturing toward the rooftop door that separates us from the world outside. The anticipation is laced with trepidation, the promise of escape tempered by the memories of the chaos that still lingers in our minds. As I stand beside Derrick, my heart races with an odd mixture of hope and apprehension.

His fingers clasp the doorknob with a vice-like grip, and I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. The door yields to the steady pressure of his hand, and in that heart-pounding moment, the outside world hurtles inside with a devastating deluge of rubble, debris, and water. Our alarmed screams are rendered futile, engulfed by the sheer force of the torrent. We are helplessly flung backward, our bodies colliding with the cold, unforgiving door. Gasping for precious air, we grapple with the harsh truth that our confinement remains unyielding, and our hopes are mercilessly crushed. We are trapped.

The quiet desperation that grows within us in this confined space bears down on us, and the reality of our entrapment is a heavy burden. We make our way back to the spot where we were sitting earlier, and I can’t shake the feeling of dread that’s been creeping over me. I think of Alex and start to mumble his name under my breath.

My chest tightens, and it’s as if the weight of the world has descended upon me. A sob escapes my lips, and before I know it, I’m crying. The fear for my precious nephew’s safety is overwhelming, and my heart aches with anxiety.

Derrick moves closer as he tries to serve me his presence as a comforting anchor in this disorienting darkness. His attempts to console me are met with tearful resistance. I look at him, eyes filled with worry, and my voice trembles as I ask, “Do you think those school children will be okay?”

The thought of children caught in this terrifying ordeal only intensifies my distress. I continue to sob, my emotions threatening to consume me. Amid the oppressive gloom of our confinement, Derrick’s reassuring voice rises like a beacon, cutting through the shadowy veil of panic that shrouds me.

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