Elias's POV
"Oh sweetie..." I hear a woman's voice seep into my consciousness. Her quiet sobs and sniffles fill the silence. I try to open my eyes, but a bright light forces me to shut them again.
"Did you see that, Mike? His eyes moved. I saw it!"
I start to recognize the voice. That's my mother. What is she doing here?
"He didn't move, Susan. You probably just imagined it." This time a man speaks. His voice is soft and deep and belongs to my father.
"No, no, I saw his eyelids flutter," my mom insists.
"Susan, stop it! He isn't waking up! Now get your purse. We're going home."
After a few moments of silence, I hear the scratching sound of a chair being pushed back and the jingle of my father's keys, followed by the sound of a door opening.
No don't leave me. Please, I don't want to be alone.
I open my mouth to protest but all that comes out are raspy sounds. It seems to be enough though because I hear my mom rush to my side again.
"Nurse! Doctor! Come quick! I think he's waking up!" my dad roars while my mom squeezes my hand.
"It'll be fine, baby. I'm here," she whispers.
I push myself to finally open my eyes and blink until everything comes into sight. I'm in a hospital room and my mom is standing over me, stroking my hair while my dad's calling for a doctor in the hallway.
"Mom," I croak.
"Yes, baby?" A tear rolls down her face.
"Wh-what happened?"
She is about to speak when a smiling man, seeming to be in his mid-thirties, enters the room and walks toward my bed. He's wearing a standard military combat uniform and has a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
"Sergeant Elias Sanders, my name is Dr. Gilbert."
I nod.
"Judging by the look on your face, you have no clue what's going on. Am I right?"
"I-" I clear my dry throat. "Y-yes."
"Alright," says Dr. Gilbert, the smile he had upon entering the room fades from his face. "What is the last thing you remember?"
I close my eyes, thinking and when I open them again, I tell the doctor about how I remember Michael coming to rescue me.
"So, you don't remember anything after that?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"Well, you lost a lot of blood. You blacked out while your platoon was rushing you back to base. The doctors there couldn't perform the necessary surgery, so they stabilized you and got you on the next ambulance plane back home."
"So, I'm back in California?" I ask.
"Yes. You're in Courtdale Military Medical Center."
I guess that explains why my parents are here. I attempt to sit up but a sudden pain in my side makes me fall back down.
"Easy there," warns Dr. Gilbert. "You don't want to put any more strain your ribs. They're cracked and if you put too much pressure on them, they could break all the way and potentially even puncture your lungs."
I nod understandingly and let my head fall back onto the pillow. "When can I go home?"
Dr. Gilbert chuckles a little as he flips through my chart. "If everything goes well, you'll be out of here in less than four weeks. We just have to keep you here a bit longer for further monitoring and checkups."
"Alright. Thank you."
Dr. Gilbert nods before leaving the room.
"Where's April?" I ask after a few seconds.
My parents, who were just telling me how glad they were that I'm okay, look at the ground to avoid my eyes.
"Where is she?" I ask when they don't answer me.
"Well, she-" my mom starts, but my dad cuts her off.
He places a hand on my shoulder and says, "She's at school."
"Oh," I say, still a little confused. Why are they acting so strange? "Well, how is she?"
"She's fine," my mom says a little too quickly for my liking.
"Uh- okay? So, when can I see her?" I ask.
My dad clears his throat while sharing a knowing look with my mom.
Alright, that's enough. I want to know what's going on.
"Guys, what the hell is going on? What are you not telling me?" I snap. Both my parents sigh before my dad answers.
"Your sister doesn't know what happened," he mumbles.
"What?" I gasp. "Why not?"
"We didn't want her to worry. She's got enough on her plate as it is."
"Oh." I pause and crack my knuckles. "But I really want to see her," I admit, feeling guilt sink into the pit of my stomach.
They're right. April shouldn't have to worry about me.
"We know, honey. But it's probably best if you wait to see her until you're out of here. We wouldn't want her seeing you like this." My mom gestures at me. "Would we?"
I shake my head, knowing what she's getting at. My face is red and swollen because of my broken nose and the skin that is not covered by my hospital gown is covered in nasty cuts and bruises.
"So, what will you tell her? That my deployment was cut short?"
My mom nods and I swallow to get rid of the growing lump in my throat. I don't like lying to April, but I also don't want her to find out what happened.
"Good, now that that's settled, I think we should talk about your birthday. I think we- Oh, hold on-" My dad is cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He pulls it out and answers it. "Sterling? Yeah. What is it? Mhmm," he hums, scratching his chin. "Wait, what? No, no, no!"
My mom looks alarmed at the sudden change of tone in my dad's voice. She touches his arm to get his attention, but he doesn't react.
"They did what?" my dad shouts, which seems to worry my mom even more. She slightly tugs on her husband's arm, but again, he doesn't react.
"I will be right there, Sterling!"
After hanging up the phone, my dad turns to look at my mom in bewilderment. "We have to go, Susan!"
"What? But Elias just woke up from surgery! And we were just about to plan his birthday!" my mom protests.
"I know and- " My dad turns to address me. "I'm sorry, Elias, but something really important has come up at work! We'll just prepare some dinner at your place for your birthday. Sound good? Yes? Okay. Now, come on, Susan!" He grabs my mom's hand to pull her out of the room.
"But Mike- I- Elias, are you going to be alright? What do you think about the birthday dinner?" my mom stammers as my dad drags her across the room.
"I'll be fine, mom. I promise," I lie, knowing there's nothing I could do to stop them from leaving anyway. "And yes, the dinner sounds nice. As long as I don't have to do the cooking though." I chuckle a little, thinking back to the one time I cooked something for the whole family; almost everything I tried to make ended up tasting burnt, so, since then I haven't attempted to cook anything other than French toast.
"Alright then. Dinner it is. Take care, son. We'll come visit you again as soon as we can," my dad says without looking back.
"Bye guys I-" I stop myself from going on because they're already gone. I pull the comforter up to my face and carefully turn onto my side. "I'm glad you came by," I finish, quietly mumbling the words to myself.
***
"Sergeant Sanders?"
I put down the book one of the nurses gave me and look up to see an elderly woman enter my room. She's wearing a white button-down shirt that is tucked into a dark gray pencil skirt. Her gray hair is slicked back into a low-hanging bun and there are several rings on a few of her fingers.
"Yes?"
She crosses the room and sits down on the chair next to my bed, pulling a notepad and a pen out of her purse.
"Good afternoon, Sergeant. My name is Dr. Diana Lawson and I'm a psychotherapist for complex post-traumatic stress disorder," she states matter-of-factly, her British accent emphasizing her serious demeanor.
I sit up a little and run a hand through my hair. A psychotherapist? "Uh- Ma'am, I think you're in the wrong room."
"I don't think so, Sergeant." Dr. Lawson chuckles. "Your superior Colonel Bennet sent me here to talk to you about what happened back in Afghanistan. And just so you know, whatever you tell me is, of course, handled with the utmost discretion and –"
My heart starts racing and I close my fist around a handful of comforter. This woman who I've just met wants to talk to me about what happened? Uh, no. I don't think so. Just thinking about putting into words what was done to me makes me physically sick.
"Hold on, Dr. Lawson." I lift my hand to stop her. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think any of this is necessary. I mean, I'm fine. I don't need therapy."
Dr. Lawson eyes me skeptically before scribbling something down on her notepad. "I'm sure you think that, Sergeant." She klicks her pen and looks up. "But after what was done to you, I can assure you, you are not fine," she states.
I open my mouth to object but shut it again when I see she isn't done talking yet.
"You see, the first step to overcome a trauma such as yours is to admit that what happened to you is not your fault."
But it is my fault... I'm the one who lead my platoon into that trap. I can only thank God that I was the one who was kidnapped and tortured and not one of my men. I think if that had happened, I wouldn't be able to ever forgive myself.
"Look, doctor, I am thankful for your willingness to help," I say which brings a smile to Dr. Lawsons face. "But I don't need help. I swear. I'm fine."
The smile on Dr. Lawson's face falters and she sighs. "But Sergeant Sanders, if a trauma such as yours stays untreated, it could lead to severe mental health issues such as depression and anxiety disorder. So please, if you would just let me help you I-"
"I don't need your help!" I shout which makes Dr. Lawson flinch. She shuffles around on her seat and the perplexed look on her face makes me feel a little guilty. I should not have overreacted like that.
"I don't need your help," I say again, this time much calmer. "I'm fine."
Dr. Lawson eyes me with a taken aback look on her face before regaining her previous serious demeanor. She gets up and pushes the chair aside.
"Alright then," she says, her voice sounding weak. She clears her throat before going on. "I guess you're not ready to talk about your trauma yet and that is totally fine." She sighs before looking at the ground. "But even if you don't want to talk about it, it would do you good to write it down somewhere because sometimes just writing down what's on your mind can help bring a sense of peace and relief."
I so badly want to tell her once again that I'm not traumatized, but because I'm not sure if I can do it without shouting at her, I keep my mouth shut.
I can feel Dr. Lawson staring at me, waiting for some kind of response. When I stay silent, she puts away her pen and notepad before walking to the door.
"Get better soon, Sergeant Sanders. And if you ever do want to talk, you can find my phone number on the internet."
"Thank you, doctor, but I don't think I'll be calling you," I mumble, avoiding her eyes.
Dr. Lawson sighs and opens the door. "Goodbye, Sergeant."
"Bye," I say and when she's gone, I close my eyes.
***
Today is the day I finally get to leave the hospital. The pain in my side has almost completely faded and the only time my ribs sting a little is when I twist my upper body too much or apply pressure to them. Also, my face is no longer swollen, and Dr. Gilbert allowed me to get rid of the ugly cast that was on my nose for most of my stay in the hospital.
As I'm closing my packed bags, my dad struts into the room. "Alright, everything's sorted out. You ready to leave?"
I grab my bags and nod, not wanting to talk, much less look at my him right now. He promised he would come visit me again, yet he never did. I didn't even receive a phone call from him or literally anyone in the three weeks I was in this godforsaken hospital.
"Good, let's go then."
My dad grabs one of my bags and leaves the room. I silently follow him and while we're walking, he tries to strike up a conversation. I answer his questions quite brusquely though, so after some time he stops trying.
Once we leave the hospital, my dad answers an incoming call, making his need to fill the suffocating silence between us disappear. I also start relaxing because the sun on my face feels really good. I take a deep breath and listen to the waves breaking onto the beach in the distance. The palm trees decorating the parking lot are rustling in the warm ocean breeze and for the first time since arriving, I'm glad I'm home.
The drive home is long and even though I'm feeling bitter toward my dad for not coming to visit me in the hospital, I'm upset about the fact that now that he's here with me, he's on the phone. He doesn't even hang up when we pull up to my small house.
As soon as I hop out of the truck, the front door flies open and my sister rushes toward me.
"Elias!" she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her long brown hair is all over my face, but I ignore it. I want to lift her off her feet and spin her around a couple of times, but then I remember my ribs are still not fully healed, so I decide to just hug her back. After I let go, she leans back and eyes me.
"Happy belated birthday!" she says, excitedly messing up my hair.
I laugh and slap her hand away. "Oh, please. Don't mention it. Makes me feel so old."
April snorts in amusement. "You turned twenty-four!"
I shrug and fix my hair. "I know!"
April rolls her eyes and grabs my arm to drag me inside. "Just...shut up. Now come on. Dinner's almost ready."
"Hold on, shouldn't we wait for dad?"
April glances past me to see our dad still sitting in the car, talking on the phone. She takes a deep breath and looks down in disappointment and shakes her head. "No, come on."
"Wait, April," I say. "What's wrong?"
April avoids my eyes and shakes her head again. "Nothing."
"You know this doesn't work with me," I warn softly.
April sighs again. "Well, it's just- He never spends any time with mom and me. He's either at work or, when he's home, he's on the phone with Sterling."
"Oh, A. I'm sure he's not doing it on purpose. I bet he's just really busy at the moment," I say, trying to sound convincing.
April tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks down again. "Yeah, well, he's never not busy," she mumbles, and I know she's right. Before I can say anything though, our mom appears.
"Elias, honey! Welcome home," she says, opening her arms to embrace me.
"Hey mom." I offer her a small smile and hug her. She squeezes me tightly before letting go. That's when our dad gets out of the car. I take a step back from my mom and drape an arm over April's shoulders.
"Is dinner ready yet?" Is all my dad says when he joins us. I clench my fists together and look at the ground to stop myself from remarking something very inappropriate. Is he serious?
"Yes it is," my mom says calmly, which makes me wonder if she even realizes how rude my dad's question was.
"Good because I'm starving," my dad mumbles, pushing past us. My mom offers April and me a somewhat apologetic smile before following my dad.
"Come on. Forget about it," I say as I see April's frown deepening. She sighs and nods, holding onto me as I guide her into the house.
***
"So, A, how's school?" I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood. Since sitting down for dinner everyone's been walking on eggshells around April because they don't want her to find out why I'm home.
"Fine, I guess. I had a soccer game last weekend," she says quietly.
"Oh, really? Did you guys win?" I ask, but April doesn't answer because my dad beats her to it.
"Of course they did," he says cheerfully, typing something on his phone.
Hold on, how would he know?
"Actually," April mumbles, "We didn't."
My dad looks up in surprise. "Wait, what? I thought you told me you guys won!"
"They haven't won a game this whole season, Mike" my mom says with a sigh. "And you would know that if you'd been to at least one of her games," she adds with a slight accusatory undertone. She glares at my dad and I'm a little taken aback because this is the first time I'm seeing her like this.
April shuffles in her seat and stares at her plate.
"Well, excuse me, Susan, but if you haven't noticed, as of lately I've been kind of busy," my dad says, raising his voice.
"As of lately?" my mom snaps. "When have you ever not been busy? You've never been to a single one of April's games, not to mention Elias' boxing tournaments when he was still in high school!"
My dad slams his hand on the table, making April flinch. "That's because I have more important things to do!"
"Are you saying our children are not important to you?" My mom gasps indignantly which seems to guilt trip my dad a little.
"No. That's not what I meant, and you know it! Look, all I'm saying is that some stupid soccer game is not even remotely as important as a business meeting that could earn Winston and Sanders a million dollars," he states, referring to the company he co-owns.
Him and his best friend Sterling Winston founded the company when I was in middle school, and ever since then he's rarely been home.
"All you care about is money!" my mom shouts. She gets up and throws her napkin at my dad. He catches it just in time before it lands on his face.
"Susan I- "
"Enough!" I slam my hand on the table the way my dad did earlier. Both my parents fall silent and stare at me. April looks up for a second, surprised, before lowering her gaze again.
"Elias, sweetie," my mom starts softly, but I cut her off by raising a hand.
"Stop, just-" I take a deep breath and rub my eyes. "Leave."
"What?" my dad whispers in surprise.
"I said leave," I say again, this time a little louder and more demandingly. "This was supposed to be my birthday dinner. But you two have turned it into-" I wave my hands around in an attempt to help me think of the right word." Into whatever this is, and I don't like it, so leave."
An unsettling silence falls over the table until my dad clears his throat. "I guess it's getting late anyway," he mumbles to which my mom quietly agrees. They reach for their plates, ready to carry them into the kitchen, but I stop them by saying, "I'll take care of that."
My mom looks at me a little hurt and it takes everything in me to ignore it. I know she's right. About everything she said, but she shouldn't have started the fight. Especially not right in front of April. She's sixteen for God's sake. She shouldn't have to witness something like that.
"Oh, and by the way, April is staying over tonight," I state, looking at April to see her reaction. Judging by how she looked when our parents were fighting, I'm pretty sure she needs some time away from them.
The small glint of relief that lightens up her eyes as soon as the words leave my mouth tells me I'm right.
My dad opens his mouth to object, but my mom quickly shuts him up by grabbing his arm and pulling him through the living room to the front door. "Drop it, Mike."
"Alright, see you soon guys," I say when my parents start getting into my dad's car. "This was-uh- nice," I choke out, not wanting to seem all too impolite.
"Yeah, yeah it was," my dad says before slamming the car door shut.
My mom pouts a little and wishes me well before closing her own door. Then the two of them are off, leaving me and April alone.
"What the fuck was that?" I ask as April and I go back inside.
"I don't know." Is all she mumbles as we start collecting the dirty dishes and I know immediately that she's lying. Or at least that she's not telling me something.
I don't bring it up until very much later though.
"April?" I knock on the door to the bathroom. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," April's voice sounds very muffled and when I enter the room I see why; she's brushing her teeth.
Her hair is braided the way it usually is, and she's removed all her make-up. Also, she's wearing an oversized shirt and an old pair of sweatpants she must have stolen from my closet while I was still downstairs.
"Hey," I say softly, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. April continues brushing her teeth while eyeing me suspiciously through the mirror.
"What is it?" she mouths around her toothbrush.
I look down for a second before meeting her eyes in the mirror again. "This isn't the first time the two of them have fought, is it?" I ask carefully, knowing I might strike a nerve.
April stops brushing her teeth and rinses out her mouth before turning around. "No, it's not," she whispers before leaving the bathroom, avoiding my eyes with her own.
I knew it. There's always been some tension between our parents since our dad founded Winston and Sanders with Sterling, but I've never actually seen the two of them go head-to-head the way they did tonight.
I turn off the light and follow April into her room, which is also known as the guest room. The lights are turned off and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to spot April sitting on her bed with her legs pulled up to her chest. She's sniffling because she's trying to hold back tears.
"It's okay to cry, you know?" I walk around the bed and sit next to her, pulling her into my side. April huffs and lets go of her legs to let her head rest on my shoulder more comfortably.
We sit in silence for quite some time until she starts talking.
"The fighting- It started after you left three months ago. At first it was rare, and it wasn't too serious. Now though, they fight almost every day. They fight about the most stupid shit and I- I don't know what to do, Elias, because I'm stuck in the middle of it all." April stops herself because she can't go on without crying.
I rub my hand up and down her back and sigh. "I don't know what to tell you, A, because there's nothing we can do about it. Especially not you." I pause to think about what to say next. April sniffles a little and uses one of her hands to wipe away a few tears that, after all, somehow managed to escape her eyes.
"I guess you'll just have to try your best to live with it. For now, at least because in less than two years you'll be off to college anyway. And until then you can always crash at my place. Okay?"
April nods, not wanting to discuss this any further, and I take that as a cue to change the subject.
"So, how's Chris?" I say after some time. April whips her head around and stares at me incredulously.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" I ask, knowing exactly what's going through that little teenage head of hers.
"He-uh- he's fine," she stammers and even though it's dark, I know she's blushing. "But how did you know?"
"I know everything, but that's not important," I tease. "What matters though is if he makes you happy."
April smiles at the thought of her boyfriend and nudges my shoulder with her head. "He does."
I can't help but smile myself, nudging her back. "Good, but I'll be keeping an eye on him." I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively which earns me a slap on the shoulder.
"You will do no such thing!"
"Will do!"
"Ugh," April huffs in feigned frustration. "You annoy me."
I get off the bed and yawn. "Yeah, yeah. I love you too."
April chuckles and slips under the covers.
I smile and ruffle her hair. "Sleep tight, little one."
"Just leave already!" April chucks a pillow at me, but I swiftly dodge it, laughing.
"Okay, okay. I'm leaving." I slip out of the room, but before I close the door I say, "Love you."
I hear a faint, "Love you too," before closing the door.