The Bunker

silence and PTSD.

"Mr. Hoechlin and Mr. McGrath, I hope you have a very good explanation for being a full 15 minutes late to my class." was the first thing Mrs. Naves said when we walked in. Which, to be fair, was better than last week, when she asked us to wait outside until she had finished her sentence so that we didn't "distract her class".

Naturally Quinn had to go and give some irritable retort to that comment, so in the end it didn't really matter that she was in a better mood than last week, we were exiled outside the class once again.

"You're unbelievable, you know that right?" I glared at him.

"She's a pain in the arse, and this isn't high school anymore, she makes a big deal out of everything." Quinn was already walking away and heading towards the cafeteria.

"We were late." I said, making no effort to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I trotted alongside him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

"No you were late. I was late by association."

"Well drive yourself next time then". I snapped back.

That sobered him up real quick. He slowed down and smiled his most apologetic smile.

"Sorry H...look Amy is taking notes anyway so we can catch up later."

I glared at him a little longer before deciding that it wasn't worth being mad at him all day over, then walked towards the coffee bar. No point in wasting a perfectly good coffee opportunity. Quinn followed me.

We poured our beverages and sat down at one of the few not so dirty tables. Honestly, you'd think that as you go higher up on the education ladder, cafeterias and toilets would get cleaner. Apparently not.

"I'm gonna text Amy and ask her to swing by here after class is over." Quinn declared pulling out his phone.

"Mmm." I grunted. My mind was on the strange dream I had been having, and the fact that my best friend had just confessed to me that he was having the same dream too.

"Hey Q, can I ask you something?" I asked, staring at the foam in my coffee.

I felt him glance up at me, then put his phone away. "Sure."

"How long have you been having that dream?"

He hesitated before replying, "I don't know, maybe a couple of months now...since my accident. I mean I just assumed that it was PTSD from the crash."

I looked at him in alarm, "You're okay though right? Do you have PTSD from the crash?"

He squinted his eyes at me, "Even if I did, you're not a therapist and you wouldn't be able to help me."

He wasn't wrong about that. "I'm just being concerned. Something best friends do." I said defensively instead.

"Look...I'm okay H, just let it go please?" he replied, a strained expression on his face.

"Let what go?"

We both jumped at the sound of Amara's voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" I asked pulling a chair out for her.

"Naves let the class go early, she hopes we take the extra time to study for our upcoming exam." she replied sitting herself down and making a move for Quinn's coffee. She took a long sip and flashed us her most innocent smile. Quinn didn't even try to protest his coffee being taken away.

"Yeah well some of us aren't geniuses and really needed the notes from that class." I huffed, making it a point to fix Quinn with my "I told you so" glare.

"Well, you shouldn't have been late then. Now, tell me, what do you need to let go of?" She returned smartly.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Amara, it was that she was as passionate and vibrant as she was stubborn and tenacious. Adopted at birth from west Africa by a white family, which so happened to be part of Quinn's extended family, she was always out to prove that she was smarter than she was rich.

Her afro too was a statement, a bold declaration that despite having grown up in a white family, she was African and wanted to embrace her heritage. She had even gone to the trouble of tracking down her family so she could take on her family name. So now, instead of being Amara Cullen, which is how we'd always known her growing up, she was now Amara Cullen Tinibu.

I knew I wasn't going to get out of this one by making up another "I'm still bummed I lost my job at the coffee shop after I accidentally nearly burnt down the shop" crap story, because let's be honest, that job was a freaking nightmare, but hey bills gotta be paid yo.

And well, no reasonable employer was going to keep a college student who was ridiculously clumsy around candles and blow torches.

So instead I glared at Quinn for what had to be the 10th time that day and waited for him to say something creative.

"PTSD." He blurted out, then immediately turned beet red and stared down at the table. I mentally face palmed myself and made a mental note not to put Quinn on the spot because obviously he sucked at spontaneous creativity.

Amara's dark eyes widened as she looked at me, "Oh my gosh H, are you still freaking out about that whole fire thing at your job?"

Oh great, now I had PTSD too. "No....well yes and no... I mean I'm fine just maybe a little stressed out."

She laid her hand on my arm, eyes sympathetic. "Oh hey, you know if you need help I'd be happy to pay for therapy if you need it."

I smiled back at her in what I hoped was a reassuring way and said, "Thanks Amy, but really I'll be ok."

Quinn had the decency to at least look apologetic.

"Anyway," she changed subject like nothing had happened. "I have to tell you guys something."

Quinn tried to subtly reach for his coffee. His hand got slapped away and the cup was moved away from him. Fool, he should know better by now, honestly.

"I've been having this strange dream every night," both Quinn and I immediately sat up at that.

"Like I'm in this absolutely vile place underground, and then there's some of kind sewer flash flood. I think I drown, I'm not sure, but anyway next thing I know I standing, breathing underwater...and...and I'm made entirely of gold."

The silence that followed was so tangible, it felt like we had an extra person, a stranger sitting with us.

Quinn was the first one to break it, "If we tell you something, do you promise not to be mad that we didn't tell you earlier?" he whispered. She nodded, a confused look on her face.

So Quinn told her about his dream, then about mine, and when he'd finished our strange friend, silence, was back at the table.

Amy didn't even bother to reply, just stared at Quinn with those large chocolate brown anime eyes, stolen coffee totally forgotten.

Clearly, we all had PTSD, because unless there was another entirely logical answer to this dream nonsense, we had no other viable option.

Talk about an eventful day.

******************************

Oh my word! So can anyone guess what is going on? Got any theories?

Also, I am useless at titling things, so the chapter titles are just stupid.

Bear with me here! And now for the serious stuff:

Guys, PTSD is a real problem that is often not addressed the way it should be.

While I make no attempt to go deep into it in the story itself, I just wanted to leave a few helpful links for anyone who might be suffering from PTSD or who knows someone who is.

- https://www.ptsd.va.gov/public/treatment/cope/peer_support_groups.asp

-https://ptsd.supportgroups.com/

I love all you beautiful people!

Leave your comments and let me know what you think!

Ta xx