Page 36 of Beautifully Broken

Talon

Shooting out of my bed, I grab my pistol off the nightstand and aim it at nothing.

It takes a minute for my brain to release me from the nightmare I relive when my eyes shut every night, but eventually, the deserts of Afghanistan fade and my bedroom comes back into view.

My body is covered in a cold sweat as my heart pounds erratically in my chest and rapid breaths spill from my lungs.

Fucking night terrors and fucking PTSD. They've only gotten worse now that the anniversary of the worst day of my life is coming up.

When I joined the Navy, I knew I'd be risking my life for my country, and that risk only became greater when I decided to become a SEAL.

Like most, I had hoped that I'd be able to serve my time and come out on the other side in one piece, but as with way too many others, that just wasn't the case.

Not only did I suffer a career-ending injury that almost took my ability to walk, but I also lost the love of my life.

I was one of the lucky ones. Even though the military is taking steps to be more accepting of people's orientation, that doesn't mean we're welcomed with open arms. Thankfully, my platoon knew I was gay from the beginning and was cool about it, especially since my partner was in the same unit.

Declan and I met in SEAL training, and instantly hit it off.

It wasn't until we had a night off base that we realized the pull between us was more than friendship. One drunk night led to an amazing morning after and a lot of ribbing from our platoon. Right away, we told the guys what had happened and that we planned on seeing where things would go. Trust was important in our line of work, so we didn’t want to hide this from our team.

The only people we kept our relationship from were the higher-ups.

Our platoon leaders knew we could stick to our jobs, regardless of our relationship.

We knew the risks going on every mission, but we never dwelled on them .

Until everything went to shit. We had our orders to take out a high-ranking Taliban member, but we were working off days’ old information, and something felt off from the moment our feet touched down. It was a disaster almost immediately, and we lost a lot of good men that day, including my Declan.

I took heavy shrapnel to my left side. It almost busted my leg and even damaged my spine, but thankfully, the doctors were able to repair the damage and save my leg.

Well, I'm grateful now, but once I found out Declan and a good amount of my platoon was gone, I wished I would've died with them.

Not only did I lose friends, but I lost the love of my life and my will to live.

As soon as I was stable, I was shipped stateside, which was one of the biggest blessings.

My baby sister, Raven, is a physical therapist and a damn fine good one at that.

While she felt for me and everything I lost, she refused to let me slip into the depression and leave her after being given a second chance.

Together, we rehabbed my body, but I ignored my mind.

Sure, I saw the therapist the Navy required me to see for the first few months, but I’d been trained by the best to be mentally tough and resilient.

I knew how to move through the motions without actually feeling what I portrayed.

The only person who saw through my cracks was Raven.

Once my body was better, she helped me find a job I would love that would also fit my mental needs.

Lakewood Falls, where I made my home, is about an hour from where Raven lives, nestled in the Tennessee mountains.

I'm a fish and wildlife officer, who gets to spend his days in Tennessee woods and waters, protecting them and the animals that inhabit them.

My job is primarily a solitary position, which suits my needs just fine.

I don't need to work since my cabin up in the mountains is paid off and almost completely off the grid, and my checks from the Navy cover the few bills I have. That said, I’m not one-hundred-percent ready to commit to the lifestyle of being a hermit and closing myself off from the outside world.

Even though I'm struggling with moving on after losing Declan, I know he'd hate how I've been living since I lost him.

I don't know how to move on when half my heart is missing.

Raven has been pushing me to go see a new psychiatrist, get some meds, and at least try to fight off the night terrors, but I hate the way they make me feel.

Sure, sleep is fucking awesome, but feeling like a zombie forever blows.

So, for now, I'm struggling through the best I can.

But until I can get this shit figured out, bringing someone into my mess is the last thing I need to do, whether I'm ready to move on or not.