Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
While unexpected, two years into married life, Ayla became pregnant. I have faced down terrorist, had my life flash before my eyes more than once on a mission. Becoming a dad scared me more than anything in the world. Dominiks was born and I have never been more in love in my life. From the moment the two pink lines showed on the stick, I wanted to be a girl dad. Having my pretty princess was a dream come true. They put her screaming, bloody, naked body in my arms wrapped in a small blanket and that moment is still the very best moment in my entire existence.
Wanting to be home, I decided after that enlistment I was done. No more twenty year plan. No more missions where my wife had to wonder what country I was in. No more chancing watching my baby girl grow up. Commitment is a core value to the Navy and I would see out my contract. Even though, I silently counted down the time left until I could be home with my girls.
Ayla tried to adjust. A lot fell on her alone. Things only the wife of a military service member can understand. I noticed it, but with work, I felt helpless. Post partum is a hard time on a woman’s body and mind. Her emotions were all over the place after birth. Having my commitment to the Navy I couldn’t easily be there to encourage her. As much as I had Ayla’s mother visit as we could afford, it wasn’t enough. With me gone, the stresses of motherhood, living in a foreign country, it all compounded.
One night the drinking won.
I knew she liked alcohol. I didn’t see it, though. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. The alcohol had a grip on her.
Ayla, the woman I loved with my entire being took our daughter out after drinking heavily. Why didn’t she stay home? What was she thinking? Was it intentional? Was she that drunk? I have more questions than answers and the answers will not come no matter how many times I ask myself the questions. Why she swerved into oncoming traffic, I’ll never know. But witnesses say she was driving on the wrong side of the highway in Huntsville for a while before colliding head on with an eighteen wheeler. The truck ended up driving over her small compact car, coming to rest with the driver’s tire of that truck literally on top of my daughter’s car seat.
Both my wife and daughter were dead on site.
Where was I? Not here.
Regardless of what Ayla did that night, if I had been home, it wouldn’t have happened. I never would have let her take Dominiks, our Nixie, out while she was drunk.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” I tell the stone in front of me.
“I failed you,” I tell my daughter before looking to the plot beside her. The same style headstone taunts me. “I don’t hate you, Ayla.” I explain to the air. “I hate myself.”
And that is the truth.
I hate myself for not protecting them.
I hate myself for not being with them.
I hate myself that I’m not dead with them.
I hate myself.
Period.
CHAPTER 5
Michele
“No more,” I tell myself while sitting against the back of the door. I allowed myself the time to purge my emotions, now it’s over. Back to reality. I’ve been through crazy, I can get through this.
Inhaling, exhaling, I gather my thoughts as I look in front of me. What is even happening to me? My head hurts as the day seems like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I want to turn my brain off.
Gazing the space, I wonder why he wouldn’t come inside. If I’m going to be here, I might as well get an idea of the space. Just beyond this entryway, the home opens to a living room to my left and a dining room to my right. A small hallway goes down the home in front of me.
Getting up, I move to the living room first.
The space is tidy. It’s very inviting. With plank flooring in a soft sand tone, the taupe living room set of a couch, love seat, and chair all blend nicely with the light oak entertainment center against the far wall. Both the couch and loveseat have these soft, almost velvet like throw blankets draped on a diagonal over their backs. The walls are a light beige with canvas prints hanging throughout the room.
Family pictures.
A younger looking version of Rogue, a beautiful woman with a natural tan, dark hair, and a little girl that clearly has her dad’s smile. Not that I’ve seen it up close and personal, but the way he’s looking at her and beaming, it is obvious.
They are happy. Relaxed.
Being here, it feels like an invasion of his intimate space. I move to the kitchen. It has a modern country type of feel with light wooden accents in the beams of the ceilings and a unique chandelier made of antlers over the eat-in kitchen table. White countertops shine with these light oak cabinets with silver handles. There are no kitchen gadgets filling the space. In fact, this space is very impersonal compared to the living area.