Page 94 of The Darkness Within

Repeating them lulls me into a trance, a false feeling of safety and security, and I cling to the words, facts I know about myself to be true and correct, until it all fades away to black.

Until I fade away.

“Sergeant Nashville Aidan Sommers. United States Army.”

“Sergeant Nashville Aidan Sommers.”

“Sergeant Nashville.”

“Ser—”

“Hey, Brewer.” Riggs creeps into my office, shutting the door behind him for privacy.

“Hey, Riggs.”

“Anything yet?”

I stare out the window of my office, but my mind is on him, not the scenery outside. “No, nothing yet. It’s been twenty-four hours, and I haven’t heard a word.”

“Do you have any idea what set him off?” Riggs takes a seat across from me, on the couch reserved for my patients.

“I found a torn envelope from the DOD on the counter in the kitchen. There was a letter in his bed, crumbled into a ball.” I transfer my gaze to Riggs. “They want to honor him with a POW medal and a Purple Heart.” I breathe out a tired, heavy sigh. “Violet Gutierrez got the same letter.”

He whistles long and low. “That’ll do it. I remember when Wardell and Aguilar got their letters. They struggled for a while before the banquet. I remember they shared about it in the group a few times. But they had each other to lean on, Nash…”

Leaning forward, I brace my elbows on my knees. “I thought he would lean on me, that he would come to me when he was hurting, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong, Brewer. I think some things are just too much to process at once. Think about all he’s been through, and now they want to make some sort of fucking spectacle out of it for the press. Do you think he would hurt himself?”

“No,” I answer honestly, leaning back again. My gaze returns to the tree outside my window. “He’s never tried to in the past, and I don’t think that’s what he wants. I think he just wants to escape. God, I hope he’s not using. He’s come so far, worked so hard. I know how bad he wants this.” When I look at Riggs again, he’s leaning forward, giving me his full attention, his throat working as he swallows.

“What does your gut tell you?”

“My gut tells me to give him space. That if I keep rescuing him, he’ll never learn to stand on his own and trust himself. But my heart,” I scoff, “my heart tells me to get in the car and go find him, to save him, to baby his ass. I can’t make him do this my way. He’s got to find his own way or he never will.”

“I think you’re right. Nobody knows him better than you do, Brewer. You know what he needs, however hard it might be to give it to him. The guys are dying to go look for him, but I feared it might just make things worse.”

I shake my head. “I think it would definitely do more harm than good. He doesn’t need an intervention, he needs some tough love, some compassion and empathy, and he needs space. We just need to trust in him right now, trust that he’s learned everything I’ve tried to teach him, and the tools to take care of himself.”

“And if he hasn’t?”

I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “Then we start over again, from the beginning.” Another deep breath, and then another. I check my watch and swallow. Why is it so hard to swallow? “I think I’m gonna step outside and clear my head. Get some fresh air.”

Riggs smiles, a small, knowing smile. “Sounds like a good idea. Do you need a ride along?”

I should have known he would see right through me. “No, but if I do, I’ll call you.”

I push to my feet, and Riggs stands and wraps his arms around me. It’s the strong, reassuring hug I need to keep me solidly on my feet. The kind of hug that only a caring and concerned friend can offer when you need it most.

I’ve circled this town twice without a trace of him. I’ve checked every park, every meeting and church, and every back alley and café. I even called Violet. Defeated and worried sick, I pull the car over to the side of the road and put it in park. I’d love to give in to the irrational impulse to bang my head against the steering wheel over-and-over until he magically appears beside me, but I know that’s not going to happen.

Should I give up and go home or keep searching? Does he even want to be found? What if he’s waiting for me to find him because he can’t get out of his own way and reach out?

Fuck! Fuck…fuck…fuck…

Maybe I should check the house again. I feel like I’m chasing my tail in circles, but I put the car in drive and step on the gas. Three blocks down I pass the Black Mountain Tavern, and something, maybe it’s my higher power, maybe it’s my gut, hell, maybe it’s Victor Gutierrez talking to me from beyond the grave, but something draws me in. I pull into the parking lot and park the car, but I don’t get out yet.

Resting my head against the steering wheel, I surrender.

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