Page 59 of The Homecoming

Not the answer she’d hoped for. “That’s why we’re going to the therapist, to get better.”

He shook his head. “There is no ‘better.’”

She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she had to get the gun away. “There has to be a ‘better,’ don’t you think?” She took a step into the room.

This time when he shook his head, his cheeks were wet. “No, Autumn, there isn’t a better. You all would be happier without me.”

“I completely disagree.” Her vision blurred from the tears filling her eyes, but she blinked them back and tried to regain control.

“It’s true. I’m the big brother. I’m supposed to look out for you. But you’re the one worrying about me. I let Mama and Dad down, let you down. I let my unit down. I’ve failed at it all.”

She took another small step toward him. “You’ve been injured. That’s not failing.”

“You don’t understand,” he wailed. He finally looked up at her, tears streaming down his face. “I’m a soldier, that’s my job. But I can’t do it. I let everyone down, I can’t do anything.”

She moved to sit next to him. “We have to keep trying. We’ll find a way to make you feel better. I’m not giving up.”

He dissolved into heaving sobs, but still clutched the pistol. Autumn set her hand gently on his arm.

“I’m useless,” he cried.

“No.”

“I am,” he insisted. “I can’t go do my job, I can’t sleep, I can’t see. My head fucking hurts, I hate everyone for no reason at all. All I am is a burden to you guys.”

“We can go back to the doctor.”

He growled, “They don’t listen. They just wanna throw some fucking pills down my throat to shut me up and get me back to work. They don’t give a shit if I feel anything.”

“That’s why you were going to the therapist today. To tell her how it’s affecting you.”

He shook his head, shifting the gun back and forth between his palms. “Just let me go,” he whispered.

Autumn wiped the tears from her eyes. “So, what was your plan? To let me find your body? Or let mom see your brains splattered all over the wall? How is that better for us, Jason?” It came out more harshly than intended.

He winced. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah, me too,” she nodded. “But whenever I get scared, Brandon tells me that we can do this. So,” she said, “we can do this.” She held out her hand and nodded to the gun. “Give that to me, please.”

He looked reticent. “What if I can’t be fixed?”

“I believe you will get well.” Autumn slowly reached over and touched the gun. “Now please, I don’t want my son to grow up without his uncle.” She pulled the gun from his hands and stood. “I think we should call—”

Before she could finish the thought, he sprung off the bed and she hit the wall, pain shooting through her back as the wind was knocked of her. She tried to catch her breath, but she was pinned to the wall by a forearm crushing into her windpipe. She fumbled with the gun in her hand with no idea how to use it, but she pulled the trigger anyway. It wouldn’t budge.

Jason leaned toward her and his body pushed into her stomach until he jumped back like he had been dropped back into his body. Autumn gasped and fought to catch her breath. He stared at her blankly, like the time he’d put his fist into the wall. With his eyes widened, Jason took large, panicked breaths and stumbled back. He turned, ramming his thigh into the corner of the wooden dresser and fell to the floor with a thud. Then he crawled around the foot of the bed and curled into a ball.

Autumn slid down the wall to a sitting position with her knees in front of her. She stared at the gun before switching the safety off. If he moved, she’d take Weasel’s advice: shoot first, ask questions later. With shaky hands, she fished the phone from her dress pocket and scrolled through the contacts and for the name she was looking for. The tears were flowing when Weasel picked up. “Come to my parents’ house, now.” She managed to get out between her sobs before she ended the call.

It may have been ten minutes later when Weasel finally arrived. It may also have been ten hours, but the only thing that mattered was his voice calling out for Autumn from the front door.

“Up here.” Autumn hoped it was loud enough to hear.

A moment later, Weasel rounded the corner and into the doorway with his weapon drawn, but aimed at the ground. He zeroed in on the gun in her hand. “Why do you have that?”

“I took it from him.” She pointed toward Jason, who hadn’t moved. “He wanted to kill himself.”

“Does he have any more weapons?”

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