Embracing My Scars (Ongoing)

Chapter 1

The smell of spent ammunition permeates the air, as it usually does during the day. We have been in Iraq for fourteen months, trying to protect the locals that would allow us near them. I can't blame them for their suspicions, after all that they have endured. I'm a gunner atop one of the many humvees we have patrolling the streets, and it seems to be an unusually quiet day. However, that is when all hell breaks loose. Gunfire hails from all sides, and suddenly our humvee rolls atop an IED. My teeth rattle from the force of the explosion, sending me hurtling through the air.

I jolt upright out of bed, gasping and dripping with sweat. No matter how many therapists I see, no matter what I do, I am unable to shake the recurring nightmares from my last mission overseas. Dragging myself from the bed, I quickly dress in leggings, my favorite sports bra, and a cropped hoodie. Glancing at the clock, I see it is four-thirty, but luckily my gym opens at four, so I throw on shoes, grab my stuff, and head out the door. I pop my wireless headphones in and jog the few blocks to the gym. I quickly throw myself into the workout, running through drills with my trainer, Max, who teaches various fighting styles at the gym. A few hours later, I am exhausted and thankfully clear-headed enough to return home and get some sleep.

Tonight my friends insisted on throwing me a belated "welcome home" party, and I am going to need all the rest I can get. Fortunately my best friend, Canaan, will be there to help me fight off some of the unwanted attention I have been avoiding for so long. Once I was stateside again, and seeing a therapist, she insisted that I find a healthy outlet to get myself out of my own mind. As a child I loved dancing, and decided to give that a try. I met Canaan at my first dance class, and despite our opposite personalities, we clicked instantly. He intercepted the flood of invitations for parties and such, but a year after my tour ended, I ran out of excuses. Honestly, I realize that my friends aren't responsible for my trauma, and I was just pushing them away.

So, I agree to to go to this fancy party in my honor, even letting Canaan design a dress me for the event, which took forever because while he wanted something sexy, I wanted something that still managed to cover my scars. He was patient with me and we finally reached a compromise, meeting in the middle. I shower and quickly undress, throwing myself onto the bed, and fall asleep in minutes.