As an up-and-coming social media influencer, Sadie Dwyer has had enough of the expectations thrust upon her and is finally ready to start living life on her own terms. Goodbye cushy corporate finance job, goodbye Los Angeles, and hello fresh start...
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The sun shone down with a blistering heat. It was dry and humid, neither of which were eased as our Jeep bumped along over the dirt road at a fast enough speed to cocoon us in a self-made dust storm. But neither myself nor the other three members of my team were bothered by the conditions. After all, when you've been wearing the same camouflage khakis, combat boots, and tactical gear for years—running through the same routines and living within the strict confines of a marine battalion—it all simply became a part of you.
You got used to it. Learned to deal with it.
Which I had, and to our standards, today's task was fairly straightforward. A drive around we'd done what felt like thousands of times to ensure the miles surrounding our base were secure. That didn't mean we took it any less seriously though.
"Anything on your side, mate?" Dawson asked, his voice loud enough to hear over the engine.
Squinting through a pair of binoculars, scanning the vast deserted landscape, I felt myself start to shake my head. There was a response on the tip of my tongue, but then...
BOOM!
My eyes snapped open with a gasp as I sprung up into a seated position in bed. I could feel sweat coating my body, my heart pounding like rain falling upon a window pane during a storm, and I scrambled to throw my blankets off to clutch my left leg. What was once skin and bones was now a contraption of cables, bolts, and titanium. Completely artificial, yet on nights like these—which were more frequent than I tended to admit—I woke up feeling the sharp, burning pain from the accident. Phantom pain, because there were no nerves or muscles left to be hurt. It was all psychological.
My shoulders sagged as I came to realize that everything was fine, at least in this moment, but that didn't stop me from hyperventilating. I was trying to claw my way away from the horrors inside my mind, but it was hard, knowing that while it might've only been a nightmare tonight, it was a vivid recount of my disastrous last day of active deployment in the marines. When the world as I'd known it had blown up in my face. When I'd lost so much. Too much. A day from my past that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried.
It could've been a few minutes or an hour that I sat there, hunched over with my head between my knees, until I began to feel my heart rate slow down. When it finally felt like nothing more than a light pressure in my chest—one that I could deal with—I glanced towards my side table and saw that it was just before seven in the morning.
Not horrible, considering there'd certainly been days when I'd woken up in a similar fashion after resting only an hour or two and had been unable to fall back asleep. At least today, I could simply get an early start.
Pulling on a pair of athletic shorts and a loose-fitting hoodie, I then slipped into my running shoes and headed out to clear my head. Even on days when my nights weren't plagued with the horrors of my past, I found that morning runs brought a sense of calm to my day. They were a constant. It was just that some days, like today, they were needed more than others to chase away the turbulent thoughts inside my head.
