Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

My First Day (Rewrite)

"Heather," Harvey said, shaking his head, "You did everything you should have. You trained them, they survived all of it. You led them through all of that and got them home."

"Still," I protested. "I should have..." Harvey held up his hand and interrupted me.

"No, Heather. No should have's right now," Harvey told me. "Have you been taking your medication?"

I shook my head. "Not since Halloween."

"Chief," Captain Jane said, her voice disapproving. Harvey held up his hand and the Captain went silent.

"Heather," Harvey said, his voice was even, understanding. "Have you been taking any of your meds?"

"Only the Field Warfare pack," I told him, shrugging. "Sticky Bromide and the rest. Made all of Actual take it with me," I knew I sounded childishly stubborn. "It saved their lives when the enemy hit us with lewisite."

"That's all acceptable," He nodded. "All right, Heather, it's time to take your garrison meds again," he said gently. "You're out of the zone, and back in garrison."

"Don't wanna," I said, pouting. "They make me feel thick. My body feels heavy and slow. I can't think and everything feels muted."

"I know, Heather," Harvey said. "We've been over this about your medication."

I knew I was pouting, being childish. "Don't wanna," I said again.

"Why do you need to take your medication, Heather?" Harvey asked.

I sighed. "To help regulate my emotions and smooth away the trauma into normal functioning memories. To let me be who I would have been without the trauma and let me function without intrusive thoughts, explosive rage, inappropriate responses," I looked down.

"You know you should take them. That you're in garrison, it's safe to take them here," Harvey said gently. "Get your pills, Heather."

"They make me sick," I tried. I still got up, moved over to my desk, and pulled open the drawer.

Four bottles. I opened each one.

"I know they do. Tell you what: You've been off them for almost two months, Heather," Harvey said. "Half-dose only."

"I don't wanna," I whined. I hated it, but my brain wasn't working right.

I could feel the wrongness of the thoughts that slithered through my brain. There was an ache at the base of my skull that urged me not to take the pills.

...just buy a bottle of whiskey, you know it works...

...that fuzzy feeling in your brain as things are wiped away. the depressive and suppressive function of the alcohol washing away the nightmares and flashbacks...

...and it tastes so good. remember?...

I pushed the thought away, then used the pill cutter to slice my basic four meds into halves.

"Can we trust her to..." Captain Jane started.

"Yes," Harvey said. "Heather's trustworthy. She asked for help initially, she's adhered to her medication regimen, she attends her appointments. She's earned my trust."

The pills felt like jagged chunks of metal going down my throat. Washing them down with a Pepsi helped. I hiccuped and went back to my chair.

"About last night, Chief, is..." Captain Jane started. She stopped when she saw Harvey's upraised hand.

"Captain, please," Harvey said, raising his hand again.

My stomach cramped and I bent over, moaning.