Have you ever heard the saying? Sometimes, the wounds just won't heal? I never believed this in my younger years. I had thought life to be hard. That I had been through such detrimental deeds that the world couldn't possibly get any harder.
That was such folly! As a child growing up in a broken home. I knew such over bearing misery. Watching as my friends father's helped them. Playing catch with them, teaching them how to work on cars or build fences. Or other father son activities...
For me, I was always attempting to get acceptance from my brothers father. Not knowing my own, and only knowing this man. The brutality of my punishments versus my brothers was no doubt noticed by any watching from the outside.
It mattered not how exceptional I was at something. How good I truly was in school or sports. I'd always get just the bare minimum congratulations, if any at all. While whenever my brother achieved something no matter how small. It was never trivial.
-spiraling the cup in his hand. The whiskey within made a mini cyclone within the crystal cup. In the darkness the man continued to speak to the drop dead bomb she'll who had sat next to him, and watched him drink a couple shots. Herself, drinking a sex on the beach as the man spoke.-
For as long as I can remember, I am always asked same question. What happened to you? When did you let go and allow the sorrow to drag you below? But I didn't allow anything to defeat me. It's the realization that I was never as good as I thought I was..
That has driven me to live the life I have lived. The beatings, the isolation, the feeling of being a worthless human being from childhood. It paved the road that I have walked among.
-Looking toward her, his lips creased upward slightly as he raised the crystal goblet to his cracked, slightly parted lips. Barely opening his lips they caressed the cup as he tilted his head back to match the same movement as the goblet. That was now allowing the golden liquid to drip down his throat.
The truth of the matter is I, in my adolescence had no idea the amount of pain and suffering that I would have to endure through out my life. From my child hood as an outcast, to my extensive service in the U.S. military. To the loss of my wife and our child.
-letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. He could feel the weight and heat of his breathe escaping his lungs. Thoughts stuck motionless on a period of happiness that seemed to be solitude, lost adrift In an ocean of medicated madness. PTSD they called it. He called it post mortem anxiety as he attempted to rejoin them...-
That is why we have sought you out Colonel. We have read your colorful resume. How you were given orders to retreat and leave men fallen in the combat zone behind and you refused. Fought your way through certain death to save and ultimately avenge your comrades. Men like you are a dying breed, men like you are the type of people we need in our organization.
-For the first time since this conversation had begun, he finally looked at her. In this moment he understood what they meant by eye candy as her electric blue eyes lingered on his own sunk-in, haunted eyes. Looking at her and those perfect features. He almost felt the weight of his sins lift a little. She held out a business card toward him.-
What I'm offering you, is a chance. A chance to atone for your past transgressions. It's a small job, but it'll keep you happy and comfortable for a little while at least. Maybe even get you out of this dump.
-She smirked looking around at the bar, and the old drunks that littered the place. Knowing in the back of his mind that he should have declined this offer, he stared at the card in his hand. His first instinct was to tell her to go take a giant leap off a cliff. Then he thought about how his wife had ran off with another man and wasn't letting him see their daughter.
He so desperately wanted to see Jasmen again. It had been four years since his return state side. The surprise visit to his house, to find her in the act of adultery. His first instincts were to take his side arm and put a slug in both of their brains. Than he heard a small voice for you see, he hadn't went inside the room. The door had been cracked and he heard the unmistakenly, gut churning sounds of filth and pleasure tied all together. It pierced through his heart, the sound of his daughters little voice standing beside him.
"Mommy said to play while she plays with uncle Jodi..." Tears filled the little ones eyes. "Daddy, is Uncle Jodi hurting mommy? She's been screaming for a really long time..." The anger swelled within him and surged like a lightning bolt crackling through his entire body. It didn't take long for him to pick Jasmen up and go out to his Audi and find a motel room.
The cops had kicked in the door to 606 and arrested him. Apparently, your not supposed to cross state lines with your off spring without parental consent from the other side. Who knew?
-Looking into the bombshells eyes, he began to speak. But she lifter her hand and put her slender.fingers over his lips. "Be at pier 87 at 12:30 sharp Colonel. Tomorrow..." She dragged the back side of her nails down the five o' clock shadow on his chin. Her plump lower lip quivering slightly. "The rest of the details will follow..see you then." She blew him a kiss and stood up and made her way out of the crappy bar.
Watching her as she left, he was enthralled by her over exaggerated swagger. Hips swaying back and forth with that red dress flowing behind her. He was going to have some wonderful dreams tonight. Kicking back the last of his whiskey. He looked at the card in deep thought. What the hell was this really about? Honestly, if it gave him the chance to earn enough money to have his daughter back in his life. It was worth the risk...
