Fisher's Light(36)

“I’m not going anywhere, sugar, don’t you worry.”

I don’t like her voice. It’s not the same soft, sweet cadence that always makes my ears tingle and my heart beat fast. It’s probably because my heart died and there’s nothing inside my chest but a shriveled up, useless organ. This voice is shrill and annoying. Lucy is changing right before me, but I don’t care. It’s my fault, anyway. It’s my fault she’s different and doesn’t feel the same or smell the same. I changed her, I hurt her…all my fault.

I lift my head and try to focus on her eyes, but all I see are blurry images and swirling faces.

She rocks her hips against me and my dick is instantly hard for her, just like it always is. I want to be inside of her. It’s the only place where I truly exist and can forget about the things I’ve done.

I feel her tongue trace against my bottom lip and something makes me want to pull away. She doesn’t taste the same and I hate it. I want my Lucy, not this drunken, morphed version of her.

I hear a strangled cry from somewhere in the distance and I turn my head towards the sound. I have no idea what it was or where it came from. Maybe it’s the enemy trying to trick me. They’re probably here right now, just waiting to take me down. I don’t care anymore, they can have me. They can shoot my body full of bullets and it would probably be a relief at this point. It would stop the pounding headache, put an end to the shakes wracking my body and make it all go away. I don’t want to hurt anymore, I don’t want to be confused anymore, I don’t want any of it. I want to die from the pain and I want to scream at them to just do it already, just end it. I try to open my mouth to let the screams and the shouts empty out, but I feel Lucy’s tongue against my lips again and I focus on that instead. I turn my head away from whoever is standing next to us and squeeze my eyes open and closed to try and see her. She’s in my lap, in my arms where she belongs, and I never want to let her go. I tell the person standing there to go away because I’m busy with Lucy and they need to leave me the hell alone.

I hear angry shouts and the shuffling of feet and the Lucy on my lap speaks again and it makes me wince. I want to tell her to stop talking like that. Stop talking in a different voice, stop smelling different, stop feeling different…just stop it. Be MY Lucy. I need MY Lucy.

Someone calls me an * and I can’t help but laugh. I am an *. And a monster and a f*ck up and a nightmare all rolled into one piece of shit package and I’m glad they finally noticed, so I tell them that. I’m not a hero, I’m not a good man, I’m not a good husband…I am none of those things and they need to see that.

I need another drink. I push Lucy off of my lap and stumble up from the chair. Her hands wrap around my arms to steady me, but I push her away. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’s not even supposed to be here.

Shoving my way through the crowd of people, I head towards the door and smack my hands against the wood to open it. I step outside and nothing but the hot, dry desert stretches out in front of me. I start walking, knowing I need to make it back to camp. I shouldn’t be out here alone. Why in the f*ck am I out here alone? A Marine should always be with his platoon in case the enemy ambushes us. I can feel sweat dripping down my back and my legs start to ache the further I walk through the unforgiving desert sand. I just have to make it back to camp. As long as there aren’t any surprise attacks, I’ll be fine.

A man suddenly appears in front of me and I’m so startled at the sight of someone else out here in the lonely desert with me that I pull my arm back and let my fist fly right into his face.

“DO NOT GET IN MY WAY! I NEED TO GET BACK TO CAMP!”

I start running then, but it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Each time my foot hits the ground it sinks deeper and deeper into the sand until my legs start to burn with the effort of moving. I stop suddenly when I see an IED sitting on the ground right at my feet. I quickly scan the area and, when I don’t see anything or anyone, I snatch it up in my hands and throw it as hard as I can. I hear a crash and the sound of glass breaking. It doesn’t make sense. There isn’t any glass in the desert. The IED should have exploded as soon as I threw it. I don’t care; I did what I was supposed to. I got that damn thing out of the way so the rest of my team won’t happen upon it by mistake. I can’t lose anyone else on my team, I can’t.

It’s a long, tireless walk back to camp and I happen upon quite a few enemies as I go, but I take them all out quickly and efficiently, just like I was taught. I can’t find my gun, but luckily, I’m just as good at hand-to-hand combat as I am with a firearm. I hear myself screaming and shouting as I go, especially when there are so many people suddenly cropping up in the desert with me. They look at me funny, they point and stare and I don’t understand what they’re doing. If they are on my side, they should be helping me, not standing there doing nothing.