Page 91 of Salute, To Bravery
I reach for him, trying to shake him awake. “Craig,” I whisper sharply. “Craig, baby please wake up—”
Before I can finish, his hands clamp around my throat.
My breath catches. The shock freezes me for a second—but only a second. Panic takes over. I thrash beneath him, clawing at his arms, digging my nails into his skin, trying to pry his fingers away. My lungs scream for air. His grip is iron, face contorted in fear and confusion, eyes wide but not seeing me.
He’s somewhere else. Somewhere darker.
In a desperate surge, I strike out—my palm slaps his cheek, hard. Nothing. I pull my knee up sharply and drive it into his groin. My vision and body are fighting the lack of oxygen.
His body recoils, and his grip loosens. A strangled gasp tears from my throat as I scramble free, coughing, sucking in air.
Craig falls back onto the mattress, hands splayed wide like he’s surrendering. His chest heaves. His eyes are glassy, stunned—and then they meet mine.
The wild panic in them breaks. Shame floods in behind it. “Jesus,” he breathes, barely audible. “Oh my God…”
I scramble backward until my back hits the wall. I stay there, panting, watching him with wide, trembling eyes. I don’t know what to say. I’m too stunned, too shaken. My throat aches where his hands were. My entire body is humming with fear and adrenaline.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t try to explain. He just slowly rolls to the edge of the bed, slips into his chair with stiff, jerky movements, and leaves. The door shuts behind him with a soft click.
Sliding down the wall and crumpling to the floor, tears spilling freely now. My hands tremble in my lap. The adrenaline leaves me cold and empty. I curl in on myself, sobbing silently.What do I do?
How do I comfort a man who doesn’t even know he’s hurting me? A man who’s broken in places I can’t reach?
How do I love him through this… without losing myself in the process?
Chapter Six.
Craig
Trembling in my chair, I sit alone in the garden, desperately searching for some kind of solace. The early morning air is still and cool, but I can’t feel it. I can still feel her skin in my fists. Still hear her gasping for air. See the sheer panic in her eyes. The weight of it crashes over me again and again.
I did that.
This is the first time my past has truly caught up with me—and I took it out on the one person who has never given up on me. The self-hatred is immediate and overwhelming.
What the fuck is wrong with me? What if she hadn’t hit me to wake me up? I could have killed her!
The sun is just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden paths and low brick walls. The moment should feel peaceful. Instead, it feels like I’m suffocating.
“Everything okay?” a gravelly voice asks from behind me.
Startled, I turn and look up. A tall man in shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt is walking toward me, coffee mug in hand. A sleek prosthetic leg glints in the early light.
“I’m Jake,” he says, pausing a few feet away. “Everyone calls me Big Hoss.” He tilts his chin toward the garden bench. “Mind if I sit?”
I shake my head numbly.
“I’m in the room across the hall,” he adds as he lowers himself onto the bench. “Heard shouting. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but… walls here are paper-thin.”
“I—yeah. Sorry.”
He watches me quietly, not pushing. It’s the kind of silence that doesn’t ask for answers, but makes space for them anyway. “I choked my wife,” I finally admit. The words feel like acid in my mouth.
Big Hoss doesn’t flinch. Just takes a slow sip of his coffee. “Nightmare?”
I nod. “Thought I was back on a mission. Didn’t even realize where I was. She had to fight me off. Hit me. Hard.” My balls will be rightfully swollen for days.
He nods slowly, looking out at the flower beds. “I decked a nurse on my second night in the hospital. Thought she was an insurgent sneaking into my tent. Took three staff to calm me down.”
