Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“It’s just... I’ve been doing some research… on your condition.”
“My condition?” My eyebrows heft.
“You know…” She looks at me warily. “PTSD.”
What the fuck?
I pull away from her, not sure how to feel at her pulling out the four-letter P word. Before I know it, I’m pacing back and forth in front of the bed, hand running through my hair. It’s curling at the ends like it does when it gets too long. I’ve gone too long without a haircut again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just have nightmares sometimes. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You won’t even sleep in the bed with me.” She sits up against the headboard. “Last night, you crawled out of bed after I fell asleep. I found you curled up on the armchair this morning.”
I drop my face, the familiar rush of shame sweeping in.
“PTSD is nothing to feel ashamed of.” She sees it. Of course she does, and a second later, she dashes off the bed to reach for my hand. I snatch it back.
“Well, maybe I did things I deserve to be ashamed of.”
She looks me straight in the eye and nods. “Maybe you did. You were part of a war machine on land that wasn’t yours. So maybe some things happened over there that are really difficult. And I’m not saying I can imagine or even understand.” She clenches my hands tight.
“I never killed anybody.” My tongue calls me a liar, even as I say it. There’s blood on my hands and more than just Elmer’s. We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
There was a recruiting center right by the group home so when you get kicked out of one, you could walk right over to the other. It’s either that or be homeless, and I saw enough kids hit the streets and two months later be out of their mind, addicted to shit.
But I still knew what I was doing when I enlisted. I might have only been a legal adult for two days, but I still knew enough. And I definitely did when I re-enlisted for my second tour, not knowing any other kind of life and afraid to leave the brothers I’d found.
So, I admit it out loud. “I deserve my shame and my nightmares.”
“Oh, honey.” Kira cups my face. “You’ve paid long enough.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “I’m not going on pills that make me feel dead inside.”
“Okay.” Kira gives a slow roll of her eyes. “That’s not what anti-depressants do. But I thought you might feel that way, so I was wondering if you’d be up for trying an alternative treatment.”
I frown at her curiously. “Like what? Therapy? ’Cause I hate that shit. No offense.”
She breathes out patiently. “Therapy would also be an excellent idea. I can help you find a good therapist when we get back if you’re ever open to it.”
“I can’t afford that shit.”
“Again, back to my alternative treatment. In some reputable studies, there have been many ex-soldiers who report only needing a few sessions. Sometimes only a single session.”
“What the fuck is it? Like hypnotism or some shit?”
She holds out a little clear plastic bag from behind her back. At first, I’m confused by what I’m seeing. It looks like some sort of dried-out plant.
She wants me to eat some weird herb or something? Then I look a little closer. The plant has a spindly stem and a big, bulbous head.
I jerk back. “Fucking mushrooms? You want me to do mushrooms?” I hold up my hands. “I don’t do drugs.”
“Mushrooms aren’t drug drugs. Not the kind you get addicted to. They’re hallucinogens.”
“Oh, great. So I’ll have hallucinations. Yeah. Fuck that. I see enough shit that’s not there in my nightmares.”
“Will you just listen to me?” she barks.
I shut up, my chest clenched tight. I hate talking to anyone about any of this shit, but especially Kira.
I want her to see me a certain way. Strong. Confident. Competent.
This ugly shit is a part of my life that’s just mine. I keep it hidden as much as I can, and I fuckin’ hate when it busts out and gets loud enough to ever affect anybody else. It’s why I keep to myself, generally. I don’t let anybody close enough to see it.
And how’s that working out for ya?
“I’m not just talking out of my ass here,” Kira says. “There have been legitimate studies done with veterans. Drugs can also be medicine, too. Now, this isn’t my main area of study, but I’ve read up on it. Some researchers suggest that psilocybin can stimulate nerve growth and repair the brain’s processing center for memory and emotion. It’s science. More studies are being done every day now that everyone’s started unclenching their asshole about psychedelics.”
Oh. Huh. I frown.
“And it’s not addictive?”
She grins at me. “After you drink the tea I make from these mushrooms, you’ll understand. This shit tastes too awful to be addictive.”