Page 1 of Give Me Redemption

Chapter One

Jace

2017

With a drink in hand, I sit at the One Flew South bar in the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport waiting for my brother to pick me up. If I’m being honest, I’m dreading this more than when I found out I was being booted from the Army.

I fucked up.

I chuckle to myself as I take a sip of my drink, because that’s not surprising.

That’s who I am.

I’m Jace Grant.

The fuck-up.

The boy my brother thought was a burden even if he’d never admit it. The kid who was too young to know what was going on but knew more than they all thought. And I’m the one my big brother left behind as soon as he was able, so I joined the fucking Army. I was good at my job, but I’m hell-bent on destroying a good thing, and so that’s what I did.

Maybe I’m a glutton for self-punishment. I saw an opportunity to fuck things up for myself and I went for it. Do I regret my decision? Nah. I only hate that I got caught.

When people sayI regret doing that, I sayyou did exactly what you wanted to at the time; otherwise, you wouldn’t have done it.

I run a hand over my shaved head and look up at the TV, thinking back on my years in the Army Infantry. The news is on, a woman talking about a man robbing her at a gas station. Ice clinks against my glass when I take a sip.

I had some good times and I had some bad times and then some very bad times.

It was hot, dirty, and more than I ever could have imagined. I look down at my glass, circling the ice with the tiny black straw in it as my mind goes back to the beginning…back to the day my life changed in a way only a soldier would understand.

Chapter Two

Jace

2010

The bus nearsFort Benning in Georgia, loud and fuming. With a beating heart, I hold on to my bag and papers. This is the only thing I have now. I’ve left everything else behind and I didn’t tell a soul. There’s a note on top of a navy comforter, explaining that I just needed to go. I would call when I got settled. I stare out the window at gray trees under the moonlight. A lone car or two passes by the bus, which is filled with people like me.

Or maybe not like me at all.

I’m lost.

Trying to figure out where I fit in.

A man dressed in an Army uniform along with a Campaign hat stands up.

“All right, listen up. I am a drill sergeant. Anyone with a hat on like this or similar to this is a drill sergeant. From now on, you will address me as such. You will either say yes or no. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” we all say in unison.

“When we get off this bus, females will go to the right and stand in front of the yellow lines, and males will go to the left and stand in front of the yellow lines. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

“You will hold your paperwork in your left hand and your bags in your right,” he orders. “You will have your heels together on the vertical yellow lines.” His voice is as rough as sandpaper and I can tell right away he’s a no bullshitter.

Nerves swarm in my belly, and my palms grow sweaty, but I have no regrets. This is what I chose to do, and I will see it through.

I’m away from it all now.

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