The bit before the story starts: The Horrors in My Head

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How many times do you have to be knocked down until you forget to get up again? I reckon I've had more than my fair share. Where do you want to start?

My father's death at the hands of a man I didn't know, the deaths of my wife and daughter at the hands of a man fast asleep behind a wheel, or the deaths of the men and women with whom I went to war and couldn't save? After Gillian, my life went downhill fast. If it wasn't for Tom and Philly kicking my ass out of the farmhouse I would never have got to East Point. And if it hadn't been for every woman I'd failed when we went to bed, had sex with, or formed any kind of relationship, I'd never have adopted the gung-ho attitude to my love life that had worked for me so well as an RAF Regiment gunner. I was missing my verve but I got it back. Without it, I might never have survived the destruction of East Point landing on my head or the sinking of the Stockholm.

The horrors in my head recede when good things and good people enter my life, and on other days, they catch up with me. I need someone to stand with me. I had someone once upon a time. I will do again.

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