Page 50 of The Darkness Within

As terrible as that sounds, I can’t help but laugh. “Fun for me or fun for you?”

“Both maybe. Let’s find out,” he challenges with a wicked grin.

Turns out I cannot handle sweat. I can barely even breathe. With every step my foot slams down onto the conveyor belt, pain ricochets up my leg, threatening to shatter my femur all over again.

My face pinches with pain, and my hands grip the safety bar so tightly my knuckles turn white. Riggs tries to pace me.

“Half a mile left. Push through it, Nash.”

My knee buckles, but I catch myself, crying out with a groan. “Don’t…let me…quit,” I pant, out of breath and sweating.

“Not a chance, Sergeant. You quit on me once, and you quit on yourself more times than either of us can count. I won’t let you do it again. It’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna hurt real bad, but I guarantee you that we won’t quit until your pain level is below fifteen percent and so is your limp.”

The timer beeps on the treadmill, letting me know I’ve reached the two mile mark, and I slow my pace. “You really think that’s possible, Riggs?”

“I don’t make false promises. I wouldn’t ask you to bust your ass for me if I can’t deliver my part. In fact, I have hope that we might even achieve a better result than fifteen percent, but I can’t promise you that.”

Stepping off the treadmill, I grab my water bottle and chug it, quenching my thirst. “That’s good enough for me. I’m done running from my past. I’m ready to stand on both legs and fight for my future, no matter how hard it may seem, no matter how much it might hurt, I’m ready to fight.”

“Hell yeah,” he exclaims, clicking his pen. “There’s the badass Sergeant I’ve heard so much about. The one that never quit, no matter how tough things got. The one who can handle anything life throws at him. He’s back!”

That’s not completely true. I can’t handle anything life throws at me. I barely survived. But I’m too exhausted to run any longer, and I can’t get stronger by hiding. Life has kicked me in the nuts over and over again, but it’s still a life I’m willing to fight for.

“I surrendered today.”

Brewer startles, taken by surprise. He removes his headphones, pressing pause on whatever he was listening to on his phone.

“It’s almost becoming second nature,” he teases with a playful smile.

His smile is arresting, all even white teeth and crinkles around the corners of his mouth.

“Not quite yet. But I’m getting there.”

He scoots aside on the lounge chair, making space for me. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?”

It’s beautiful out here, with the sun shining dappled light through the leaves, casting just the right amount of shade over the lounger. Birds chirp, and his tiny electric waterfall gurgles soothingly.

“Riggs is kicking my ass. He’s out for blood. Probably punishment for skipping out on rehab all those months.”

“He is not,” he laughs. “If he’s pushing you, he’s doing you a favor.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m not doing myself any favors. When I’m working out, the pain is so excruciating that I’m convinced the very next step is going to shatter my femur all over again. I’m scared of it. It makes me second-guess myself and want to quit before I reach my goal.” I swallow, pausing to gather my courage before I admit this next part. “The sound of my bones cracking haunts me. When he shot me, before the pain set in, maybe because I was overwhelmed with fear and adrenaline, but the only thing I remember that first second or two was the sound of my bones cracking. It resonated inside my head, louder than the gunshot, louder than Gutierrez’s screams. I’ll never forget the sound of my femur shattering.”

Brewer looks a little sick but completely sympathetic. “Nash, your fears are valid. Your feelings are real. But your leg is not going to break again. Not from working out. No matter how badly it hurts, you aren’t hurting yourself by pushing harder.”

I know he’s right, but that’s the thing about fear, it’s never rational. “That’s when I surrendered. Just like last time, I didn’t realize I was doing it until after, and it made me think of you, again. I asked him not to let me quit, even though I wanted it more than anything. I asked him not to let me give up on myself, and for him not to give up on me, either. It would have been so easy to just stop running, to just give in and say that I can’t do it, but I trusted in him when I couldn’t trust in myself. I surrendered.”

He scoots closer, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. Close enough that I can smell his body wash. “Riggs isn’t going to let you take on more than you can handle at once.”

“Isn’t that what they say about God?” I know I’ve heard that line recycled at NA meetings.

“Look,” he chuckles, placing his hand over mine. Awareness dances along my nerves like a shot of adrenaline, making my heart race and my blood heat. “I only know so many clichés. Sometimes I have to serve them twice, like leftovers.”

“So Riggs is God?”

“In this situation, it seems so, but if you tell him I said that, my punishment will make his look like a cakewalk.”

Leaning closer, I confide, “You should have seen him. With his clipboard and his clickety pen and stopwatch, and that I’m-determined-to-make-you-sweat-till-you-bleed look on his face, wearing this lime green sling across his chest.” Brewer laughs, and he’s sitting close enough that I can feel his breath across my cheek.

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