Short Stories

PTSD

I'm going to clarify, I have never experienced PTSD. I have researched it pretty well. PTSD is no joke. It is a serious thing. Don't diss my character because you think she is weak. In my mind, she has gone through more than many people ever will. I can expand on these books and make them fully-fledged books if you guys want. Let me know if you have a favorite story you'd like me or Tess to expand on! This story was my idea. I write a lot of stuff like this, so there might be more of this kind of stuff to follow. I will do my absolute best to make sure that it gets interspersed with fun little stuff like the "James Cat" piece I posted earlier. Let me know if you want anything specific! I'd love to hear from you! 

~Scar

        Back. Back. I am back. It feels surreal, like a dream that I haven't woken up from yet. My eyes scan the road for snipers like I used to do when it was up to me to do the driving. Every move makes me jump. My apartment building doesn't seem so safe anymore. Glass walls aren't safe! Too easy for a sniper to see you and take you out. Unsafe if the building blows up. Glass shards would kill you if the building collapses. I need to take a break! Watch some TV, go and see my friends. I'm not so sure though, I would like to, but I'm not the same person. They probably won't want to see me. I chastise myself. I need to go somewhere; anywhere but here.

         I looked at the children in the streets and saw the starving children in Afghanistan that I shot on the orders and with the assumption that they were carrying bombs. Oh God! Those children! I climbed into my truck, I couldn't see. The tears were running down my face. The children hadn't done anything to me and I had killed them on the orders of someone who had made mistakes. They were civilians. CIVILIANS! They wanted water from us!

        My vision cleared somewhat and I looked around. Too many places for snipers. They could shoot me from anywhere. 'You are back home, Amanda, you are safe and sound, nothing to worry about.' I tried to tell myself. I turned the key in the ignition of my truck and pulled away from the curb. I stopped at a red light and watched a man wearing a large black jacket cross the street. I sucked in a breath. He could have a bomb under that coat! I waited for him to explode or for gunshots. Nothing.

        'HONK' time to go, the light is green. I stop at another red light and the memories come crashing back. George, Heidi, Mark, Sean, Harley, and Jesse. All were friends who were killed in action. KIA. I thought of the letters I'd had to write to their families. How I'd had to scrawl on a piece of notebook paper how sorry I was that they died, how I'd been there, but there was nothing I could do. Saying sorry over and over and over. I didn't even realize my foot was on the gas pedal until I heard a loud honk. I looked over and I got jarred sideways. There was the sound of breaking glass, a tire popping, metal bending and crunching, and a loud screech. 

        I drift back into a hazy conscious state. There are black, red, and yellowish spots dancing in my vision, so I can't really see, so I close my eyes. I can FEEL, though, the pain is worse than getting shot. The life getting slowly crushed out of you, but you can breathe just fine. The bones in my legs were poking out of the skin, I could feel it. I could also feel the huge gash on my tummy. My legs are stuck, and I can't get away!

        I hear a wailing that seems muffled and distant. I notice flashing lights behind the ones that are clouding my vision already. I bet I killed someone else. I can't believe I could be that stupid! I mean, I've killed people before, don't get me wrong, but never by accident or without orders.

        "Miss" a strange voice calls "Miss, if you can hear me, I need you to stay awake and try to open your eyes."

       "No one...everyone else...okay...she is the....injured." Another muffled voice joins the first one.

        "That's good that no one else was injured." Says the man who tried to get me to open my eyes.

        'Good.' I thought. Now I can see George. George, I missed you. I love you so much. I'm going to see you soon, I promise. I let the fatigue overtake me. I'll be home soon. I can see you, George. I am slowly going to sleep. I am in pain, but the need to sleep overtakes the pain.

        I love you, whoever I hit, and I'm sorry I couldn't meet you. If you feel guilty, you shouldn't, because I chose to die. I've had a rough lot in life, but my life will be better, in Heaven, with the God that many people think I shouldn't believe in. He put me through a lot, yes, but it made me see that I can't lean on others because they are just as imperfect as I am. I must lean on the one who I know is perfect.

        With that, I end this. Hello, George, care to show me around...