Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive. When someone enters the pain and hears the screams healing can begin.

- Danielle Bernock, Emerging with Wings: A True Story of Lies, Pain, and the Love That Heals

Eight Months Earlier

Sunset had discovered she had developed a new habit these past few months- a tic that seemed to arise whenever her mood swung towards proverbial panic. Wringing her hands so tightly that she could feel the circulation begin to cut off had become a soothing act, a means for her to focus on something beyond the pain of her present reality.

How fitting, she thought to herself, that I can’t even focus anymore. Worthless, pathetic, useless brain! How do you expect to help if-

“Excuse me, Miss Reyes?” The voice of the receptionist broke the young woman from her reverie. Sunset’s hands, blotched white and red, unraveled and she hastily wiped the sweat away.

“Yes?”

The receptionist smiled. “Sorry if I bothered you ma’am, but Miss Cadance is ready to see you. She’ll be here in just a minute.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sunset replied shakily, a fresh wave of nerves rising and she fought hastily to quell them. She took a breath, begging herself to remain focused. It’s alright, it’s alright, you’re here on your terms to try and find Marc help. You are calm, collected, controlled… She felt her heartbeat slow, her breathing normalize. She could do this.

The door swung open and the beautiful figure of her friend stood before her. “Sunset, it’s good to see you,” Cadance said pleasantly, reaching out her hand. “It’s been a while, I haven’t seen you in- well, in quite some time.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” Sunset said, giving a smile more meant to encourage herself. “It’s been… it’s been busy at home and at work, you know how it can get.”

“I’m sure. Come on, let’s go back to my office.”

Sunset was led through the decrepit building, a worn-down relic from decades past that likely should have been condemned. But, in true government fashion, the Army continuously found a way to avoid the inevitable through endless work orders and maintenance.

“Here,” Cadance said, gesturing to an open door. “Sorry about the temperature, the heating hasn’t been working lately.”

“It’s fine, really,” Sunset replied, settling down on a cushy loveseat placed against the wall. She watched Cadance as the older woman settled in her office. Her every move was deliberate and graceful, as though she radiated calm, even her office setting seemed to be built to aid in relaxing those who dwelled in it. Sunset could feel her body unclenching, the tension starting to ease.

“I haven’t seen you at any of the FRG meetings lately,” Cadance said lightly, taking a seat at her desk. “I was hoping I would see you there. It’s been good, you know. Some of the spouses have been supporting the families… of those who didn’t make it. It’s been soothing.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” Sunset felt hot guilt bubble in her veins as she tried to find an excuse. Yes, she had problems to deal with, but her friends had lost their loved ones only a spare few months ago. Surely that was far more-

“It’s OK,” Cadance interjected, taking note of Sunset’s struggle to speak. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I know it’s been hard for everyone. Truthfully, I’m glad you called me the other day to set this appointment up. I was going to have to meet with you soon enough anyway.”

“You were?”

“Shiny’s been watching his soldiers for potential issues ever since he took command,” Cadance explained. “One or two have quietly been referred either to me or Behavioral Health for counseling or medication… he’s been debating whether or not he should arrange help for your husband.”

“Oh.” Sunset’s mind flashed over the past several months. The arguments that devolved into shouting matches, the constant night terrors and broken items, the nights where Marc simply wouldn’t sleep but would instead spend hours rambling into the mirror, the overdrinking or, worst of all, the moments where he would simply retreat into himself and go completely cold…

“I’m glad that you’re here, because it means you want to help,” Cadance said. “That, and you might be facing some struggles here yourself.” The beautiful woman gave a gentle smile. “So please… tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sunset had waited for her to say this. She had spent days thinking over what she should say. She wanted to explain everything, make it all so easy to understand, to impress the seriousness of the situation but keep her husband’s honor intact. Instead, Sunset gave a meek smile, opened her mouth, and promptly burst into tears.

Cadance said nothing, simply letting the exhausted woman before her release her tears, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder as Sunset’s petite body was wracked with heaving sobs.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Cadance said gently, “Let it out.”

Sunset tried vainly to gain some self-control. “I’m being stupid, I’m sorry,” she cried.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cadance replied. “I just wish you’d come to me sooner.”

Sunset heartily agreed, earning yet another round of tears as reward for her sentiments. Finally, as the time passed, she felt the tears lessen and she was able to slowly gain control of herself. “It’s been… I don’t know what to do, I would fight with him so much when he first came back and I think I just alienated him and made it all worse. Now he won’t even talk to me, he won’t talk to anyone, and I’m just terrified that I’ve pushed him away forever. I’m a horrible spouse and after all we went through before even coming here…”

“Do you think you can tell me what’s been going on, from the beginning?” Cadance asked. “Take a deep breath, and let’s go over this together. OK?”

She was still shaky on self-control, but Sunset gave a small nod. “When he first came back, he was sort of… distant. Like he wasn’t used to having normal human contact. I figured it was simply because of his injuries and that he was just having culture shock. But then he started having random outbursts-”

“Like angry outbursts?” Cadance inquired.

“Or moments where he seemed to be afraid. Like he was just absolutely gripped by whatever emotion he was feeling, almost as if he was overloaded by something. Then he started having nightmares, or some days I’d wake up and he’d be guarding the front door for something.” Sunset could feel the words leaving her body, a poisonous sludge within her finally being extracted. “We- we started fighting a lot. I didn’t understand what he was doing and I would get mad at him for small things, or if he got angry then I’d say something mean or derisive and it just enraged him. He started drinking heavily- something I’ve never seen him do! He’ll wake up in the middle of the night and have these horrible conversations with himself, or he’ll be so drained that he simply can’t rouse the energy to speak. It’s all my fault, I should have seen what was going on and instead I simply made it all worse.”

Cadance watched as the young woman sank into herself, burying her face in her hands as shame weighed down upon her shoulders. When she was certain that Sunset would speak no more, she put a few additional notes down and took a breath. “Sunset, thank you for telling me this. I know it must have been a miserable thing to do. What I need you to do now is look up at me, alright?”

Teal eyes, red and bloodshot, looked up into Cadance’s tranquil gaze.

“Has your husband told you anything of what he’s done while he was deployed?” Cadance asked “Either this deployment or his first.”

“N-no, never,” Sunset answered.

“Shining has opened up to me a little- but only a little. He’s never given me any hard details, but he has told me bits and pieces. And truthfully, there are times where even he has trouble comprehending the things he’s seen and done over there. War is a horrible, horrible thing, and what the damage it can deal to a person can be extensive. Do you think Shiny is the same person he used to be?”

“Could I have done anything?” Sunset asked. “Anything to have helped Marcos not go into this pit he’s in?”

“Sunset, I can’t answer that. Every person reacts to trauma differently. Some may simply brush it aside, for some they may actually appreciate their life more deeply, be more grateful and joyful for the things they have. For the unlucky few, they have to learn how to cope with what they’ve seen. Your husband may simply be one of those unfortunate few who simply can’t find a way to make sense of what they’ve seen.”

For the first time, Sunset felt a glimmer of displeasure. “Marcos isn’t weak, he’s-”

“No, of course he’s not weak,” Cadance said hastily. “Suffering does not equal weakness. His mind has simply betrayed him, and doesn’t know how to deal with the horrible things he’s seen in war. Shiny has told me only a little, but what he has had to do is beyond anything you or I can imagine. Think about it, Sunset. Marcos has lost friends, people he cared about, and he lost them in horrible, violent ways. He may be shutting himself off from you because he associates himself with that level of violence. Has he ever been present in violent circumstances before?”

A cultish gang built on violence and sacrifice. A childhood of abuse and crime. A bleeding woman on the sidewalk, an all-out war that they both barely survived. “He… had a rough childhood,” Sunset admitted. “He messed up, and- and he nearly lost his mother. He blamed himself.”

“Marcos may simply be, by the logic of his hurt mind, trying to protect you from what he’s had to deal with,” Cadance suggested. “You said he initially enlisted as a means of protecting you, correct? So maybe this is just an extension of what he already was trying to do.”

“What should I do?”

“The best thing you can do is simply be there for him,” Cadance said. “And it starts with you being able to control and manage your emotions. If you’re calm, then he’s more likely to be calm.”

“Should I try to get him to open up, or-”

“With time, hopefully he will- but never, ever force it. Be supportive, be loving, and be there to listen when he’s ready to talk. But let Marcos take the initiative. He needs to feel like he’s in control of his life again, and part of that means being in control of what he says or doesn’t say. Odds are he’ll frustrate you still, and that there’ll be times where you don’t even want to help. Just… be patient. I suggest doing some research on PTSD on your own, if you want to be more informed. I can certainly give you some more things to look at.”

“Cadance,” Sunset said softly, looking down at her hands. “Will this even help? Can I help at all?”

The room went silent, becoming as cold and distant as the stars on a winter’s night. Cadance’s expression was thoughtful, mulling over her thoughts as Sunset awaited her answer anxiously.

“You can, but- but Sunset, it really is up to Marcos,” she said slowly. “He could be ordered to see Behavioral Health, counseling, anything. But if he truly wants to get better, then the choice is entirely up to him. No one can make that choice for him. All you can do is encourage him, and pray that he makes the right choice.”

SPORTS. Acronym for correcting a malfunctioning weapon. Primarily used to clear jams in the firing chamber.

The revolver gleamed in the light as Reyes continued to polish and clean the firearm, the silver barrel sparkling as the evening sun shone through the nearby window.

Slap the magazine. He released the cylinder, rubbing hard against it with a dry cloth, brushing away grime and scorched gunpowder that remained.

Pull the charging handle. Observe the round leaving the chamber Taking a brush, he pushed a small strip of cleaning paper into the various chambers, working thoroughly until every area he could see had been stripped clean.

Release the charging handle. Tap the forward assist. Finally, with none else to polish, he slid the cylinder back into place and slid behind the sights, checking their accuracy. His many days of care and upkeep had paid off; the powerful handgun was as beautiful as it was deadly.

Squeeze the trigger. Reyes let the weapon fall back into his hand, the weighty barrel sitting heavy in his grip. A small strip of blue caught his eye- the box of ammunition he kept hidden away in his nightstand had become uncovered. Perhaps, in his occupation with the revolver, he had dislodged it.

Squeeze… He felt a tremor course through his body as he reached down for it, a horrible coldness in his chest that only intensified as he fished out a small handful of rounds. Slowly, carefully so as not to set them off, he slid each round into the chambers and slammed the cylinder into place, quickly drawing back the hammer. His hand had begun to tremble. Perhaps instinct was now taking over, the primal fears of man rising as he realized what he was trying to do. He slowly slid the revolver in his hand until it pointed squarely beneath his chin-

A series of gentle knocks against the door and the weapon slid back down between his legs. Heart racing, Reyes turned to see the form of his wife peeking through the door.

“Hey, babe,” Sunset said pleasantly, apparently unaware of what she had interrupted. “You alright?”

“Pussy.” Reyes’ mouth went dry and he struggled to form his words. Finally, after forcibly extracting them from his throat, he managed to reply, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you need anything,” Sunset said. “I was about to heat up that chili from Wednesday and I wondered if you wanted any. I can get you a bowl if you want…”

“I’m fine,” Reyes replied, leaning down to slide the still-cocked revolver underneath their bed. He rose to his feet and walked out, sliding past his wife and disappearing down the hallway.

Sunset let a few moments pass, waiting until she was certain he was out of sight. When she could no longer hear his movements, she rushed over to the bed and went down on her knees, reaching around until she at last had hold of what she was all too certain she would find-

“Oh jeez…” the round had been chambered. If she had been just a moment too late, it might- might’ve-

Sunset sealed her eyes shut and squeezed hard, forcing herself to find a means of calming down. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing wanted to intensify. No. I will hold on. I can’t do this now.

As carefully as she could, she uncocked the weapon and threw the rounds away. She rose and was determined to confront him, weapon in hand- but hesitated. He was not in his right mind. Seeing a weapon in someone else’s hand might set him off, he might lose control simply for being found out. Uneasy, she set the weapon back underneath the bed and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to rouse her brain into thinking.

“What do I do? What am I supposed to do?” she whispered to herself, begging her mind not to betray her. “Oh, Marc, please talk to me. Don’t do this, please.”

“You won’t commit. You’re lukewarm. Do you know what that means?”

“Shut up. I don’t have a reason to listen to you,” Reyes replied.

The rasping, grating sound of his father’s voice broke through his willed thoughts, rising to the surface of his mind. “Ha! You don’t get it, do you? Just how similar we really are… you may as well be my clone. A replica of the life I once had. The one you will eventually lead.”

“I don’t have to- I won’t. The last day we ever spoke to one another I swore it. I will let your legacy stay dead forever.”

“My legacy?” Estevan’s tone was derisive, mocking. “Every day you stay alive ensures my legacy lives on a little further. You may be lukewarm now, but someday my blood will run hot within you. Either you’re gonna put a bullet in your skull or you’ll be my son after all.”

“I’d rather die. I’ll kill myself before that ever happens.”

There it is, there’s the fire! You lukewarm coward, you’re like vomit in the mouth of God. Make a goddamn choice. You know you need to.”

“I will never be like you.”

“You already are, little boy. So get up and act like it.”

Reyes’ grip strengthened and he suddenly felt a stinging pain in his hand-

“Oh shit!” Reyes relinquished his grasp and found a broken glass in his hand, several shards deeply imbedded in his palm, his blood running with the water and soap that fell into the sink below.

He threw the broken glass into the nearby garbage can and turned off the spout, turning to his wounds, delicately removing each shard that poked from his hand. The extraction was a painful process, his damaged hand protesting with each movement and flex of muscle. It was as if every breath he took only caused more pain.

“Let me help,” said Sunset, suddenly appearing beside him and taking his injured hand in her own-

Reyes gave a start and pulled away-

“Hey, it’s just me! It’s just me,” Sunset said soothingly, pulling away in appeasement. “I just thought it’d be easier if I tried instead. I can help if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Reyes said, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m good.”

Sunset scrutinized him, Reyes unable to meet his wife’s gaze. He was terrified that if her eyes met his- maybe, just maybe- she would see the shadow of his father within his eyes; that what little of Estevan was within him would come crawling back to the surface. He felt something within him tremble. Perhaps he should finally speak up about his fears-

Sunset gave a smile. “Alright, then,” she said warmly. “Go get yourself fixed up, I can handle it from here. You didn’t leave many dishes, anyway.”

Reyes nodded but didn’t leave his place, watching as Sunset took over at the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at the few dishes that remained unclean. She set dutifully to her work, her efforts soon coming to fruition as the remaining pots and pans were soon left to dry. She had chosen to do this, clean up after his mess. He looked down at his feet, noticing a growing pool of blood that dripped from his injured hand, yet another mess she would have to deal with.

“Sorry.”

His voice was barely audible against the flow from the sink. “What’s that?” Sunset paused, turning off the water and turning to look at her husband, uncertain of whether or not he had even spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Reyes said, his voice a little stronger than before.

“For what?”

“You shouldn’t have to… deal with me, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Sunset asked, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

“You deserve better than this. I don’t know if you could have done worse than me.” Reyes said, deflating with each word.

To his surprise, Sunset laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know if I could have picked someone any better,” she replied.

“You don’t need to say that,” he replied.

“I know. But I still believe it.”

“You shouldn’t.” Reyes rose from his place at the table and walked away, her words of affirmation and comfort somehow draining him of what spirit remained.

“She’ll never suspect a thing. She’s too stupid to leave.”

“She’s loyal,” Reyes countered.

“So was your mother. Didn’t work out too well for her, did it?”

“I will not become like you. I promise I won’t.”

“Ha! The screaming, breaking furniture, the terror you bring? You’re well on your way already. I can’t wait to see what you bring.”

Reyes found himself in the living room, sinking down into his chair. The TV was on, perhaps accidentally left on by Sunset. A news broadcast was on, a group of reporters discussing the history of the war. Almeria. Cordoba. Salamanca. Toruń…

“You did that.”

“I did it to keep people safe.”

“Sure. Protecting people by killing others. Don’t deny what you are. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I did not. I will not follow in your footsteps.”

“All you need is a little push, a chance to let go of your conscience. Then we’ll see the gloves come off.”

Sunset wondered whether or not she should even be doing this. After all, it was likely to be an uncomfortable conversation no matter what happened. Perhaps it was against her better judgement, but she pushed forward nevertheless. “Thanks for taking the time, Marta. I know it’s been a while since you and I have talked at all.”

“I’m sure you and Marc have been busy, dear,” Marta said, her voice as warm and welcoming over the phone as it was in person. “I’m just glad he’s back safe at home.”

Sunset felt her heart sag. “Well, actually… Marta, I’m- sorry, it’s been a rough few months here.”

“Is everything alright?” Her mother-in-law’s voice suddenly became concerned and taught.

“Well…” Sunset hesitated. She knew how Marta was; emotional, heavily invested in her family’s wellbeing, but time and abuse had done a great deal of damage to her and her strength was not what it had once been. Sunset decided that some of the truth, not the whole of it, would be brought to the surface here.

“Sunset? Are you still there?”
“Yes! Sorry, I kinda drifted off for a moment there. I was just wondering… Marc never mentions it but I was wondering- well, about his father.”

“Estevan?” even through the phone Sunset could hear the dread and pain in Marta’s voice.

“Marta…” Sunset looked back and forth, wondering if Marc had made his way back home yet. She checked the halls, peering out through the window before she was satisfied. “Marc’s been struggling lately, and I can’t seem to get through to him. He’s been so weighed down by something that I can’t seem to reach him. Sometimes I’ll catch him talking to someone and- and I think it’s his father. I just wanted to know what the two were like together. Who Estevan was.”

There was silence over the line as Sunset waited, knowing what old bones she was uncovering. The two had suffered at the hands of the man, though she never knew the true extent. Part of her wondered if her decision to inquire about it was even wise.

“Estevan,” Marta croaked, “was the most wicked man I have ever known. When I first met him all those years ago, he presented himself as a gentleman. At first maybe he was, but early on in our marriage, he… he changed. We were poor. He tried to find ways of making money and fell in with Wanyama. From that moment on his attitude changed. How he treated me, how he eventually treated Marc, would only become more awful. He started out with words and arguments. He would belittle me and Marc, taunting me and mocking me. Eventually he resorted to beatings and hurting me. If Marc ever tried to stop him, then Marc became the target.”

“How did Estevan react when he first started abusing you?” Sunset inquired.

“He seemed guilty at first. When it was just words, he would do what he could to make it up to me, but later on, when he began to put his hands on me…” Marta sighed. “After that, there was no real return. He simply hardened and never looked back.”

“Does Marc know the whole story? About how it all went down?”

“He was alive for almost all of it, really,” Marta replied. “The day Estevan finally went to prison, Marc promised he would never be like his father ever again. But in many ways they are similar. Temperament, looks, attitude. Marc is what Estevan should have been.”

“How did the two treat one another?”
“Marc despised his father and feared him. He hated that man more than anyone on earth. Yet, somehow, Estevan managed to bring Marc into Wanyama for so many years. Estevan was a figure of torment to him, but was able to influence him so greatly that I couldn’t do anything to undo the damage. Probably no one else has influenced Marc so badly- save for you.”

Sunset sighed. “I don’t know how much of an influence I have anymore. Marc just seems so defeated all the time. There’s times when he gets so angry, but nowadays it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“What has Marc been doing?” Marta’s voice was suddenly sharp.

“He’s… Marta, when he deployed, he never came back. It’s like something in him broke. I can’t say I’ve been all that helpful, but we’ve been fighting a lot and he’s acted differently-”

“Has he hurt you?”

“No, never!” Sunset replied. “Every time we fight he seems to break a little more, I can’t imagine what it would do to him.”

Sunset could hear the sound of tears being shed across the line and she willed herself to remain calm. If both of them broke down here then the conversation would be lost.

“Sunset, that boy is my son. My only son,” Marta said. “He hated his father so much that he swore he would rather die than become like him. If he hurts you -truly hurts you- then run. Do not get sucked into the same mistakes I did.”

“I’m not giving up on him,” Sunset said firmly. “He is not Estevan, he is not his father. Marc never has, and never will be. Estevan chose to be wicked, what is happening to Marc is not his fault. The moment he lets me help him, then it will get better. I know it.”

“Just make sure then, dear,” Marta said sadly. “Because once you go into that pit, you may never come back out.”

The sound of a car driving in alerted Sunset to her husband’s return. “I’m gonna have to go, Marta,” Sunset said swiftly. “Thank you so much, it was good to talk to you.”

Her phone was put away and Sunset had taken her place in the living room, going over a handful of receipts as Marc walked in, eyes sunken and devoid of light.

“Hey, Marc,” Sunset said cheerfully, giving her husband a glowing smile. “Work alright today?”

Marc said nothing, turning towards the kitchen and walking in, the sounds of him slumping into a chair reaching the living room.

When Sunset finished with her work, she went into the kitchen and found Marc clutching a glass of bourbon, the drink still untouched in his hands. He seemed to be struggling internally with his decision, part of him perhaps unwilling to continue with his plans.

“I’m gonna get to work on getting dinner ready,” Sunset said. “Are you gonna be alright with that?”

Marc said nothing but allowed a small nod.

As Sunset went to work her husband remained silent, not even the slightest movement to betray his presence. He may as well have been a statue, so immovable was he. But to Sunset his presence was a gaping void, a darkened presence that consumed her thoughts.

“I talked with your mom today,” Sunset said lightly, making sure to choose her words carefully. “She misses you. I told her you’ve been busy, but you’d call when you get the chance. I really think you should, it would make her happy.”

“Mm.” It was not a true response but it was the first sign he was listening.

Sunset pored over her efforts, desperately trying to think of a way to continue. How much should she reveal? What of Marta’s words could be used here without distressing him further? And you call yourself smart. Get a grip, girl!

“You came up in conversation, actually,” Sunset continued, “Your Mom spoke pretty highly of you. Apparently you were her little hero when you were a kid. Said you’d always try to protect her from bad things.”

“I wasn’t good at it,” Marc croaked.

“You haven’t been perfect, yeah. But you-”

“I went and joined a gang.”

Sunset hesitated. “Well… yes, you did. But you didn’t stay there. You helped take them down, too. Your father never did that.”

Sunset could have kicked herself for saying that aloud. The moment Estevan was mentioned she felt a change in the air, a distinct effect on her world. It was as though a toxin had been released into the air, and burrowing its way right into her husband’s heart.

“What does my father have to do with this?” he said, his voice deep and dangerous.

Sunset realized she would have to roll with her blunder. “I know you talk to him, Marc. It’s like he’s a specter in your mind that you can’t shake off.”

“I’m his son.”

“But that doesn’t make him you. Who cares if you look alike, or even sound alike? You’re nothing like him! And I don’t believe you’ll ever hurt me.”

“Neither did my mother.”

The world suddenly became frigid. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Marc said. “My mother used to get the living shit beat out of her. When you’re a little kid, it seems like those moments happen every day. He would taunt her, mock her, take hands to her- it just never seemed to end. That rat bastard would crush her- and every time it’d happen, I’d try to stop him. You know how it is- it’s your mom, you’ve gotta protect her. Of course, since I was little, he’d beat me up too. So I’d be in my room licking my wounds when my half-dead mother would drag herself into the place and patch me up, telling me that he beat us because he loved us, that he didn’t really mean it. That the broken furniture and the beatings and every hateful thing he said didn’t really mean nothing. She was so sucked in by Estevan that if it hadn’t been for a- a random cop car, passing by as he tried to strangle her in the front yard… she would’ve died because of him, defending him right to the very end. He didn’t kill us both because of sheer dumb luck.”

Marc gave a sigh, rubbing his fingers through his hair as he sat there, tossing his bourbon aside. “You never saw pictures of Estevan when he was my age, did you? I may as well be his clone, we look so alike. We’re almost exactly the same.”

“Almost- not exactly,” Sunset said. “I refuse to give up on you.”

“Well maybe you should!” Marc flared up, turning to her with anger in his eyes. “Look at me, Sunset! God, it’s like I can’t hammer it through to you! He wins- Estevan always wins, that’s what he does! He may be dead but he sure as hell is alive in me, and I don’t- I don’t know, maybe I’m cursed. But it’s like the whole cycle’s starting all over again. I just- I just want it to stop.” His anger abated just as quickly as it had arrived, Marc slumping into his chair with tears glistening in his eyes. “I hate this. I can’t make it stop, I can’t make it better. I don’t want to be like him but…”

Sunset’s heart quickened, begging desperately for her husband to break. He was so close, so close to finally relenting and letting down the wall that had been built up for months. She reached out for him, her fingers tracing his shoulder-

Marc jumped from his seat, moving away as quick as he could. “You should leave. Leave before it’s too late.” Without another word he disappeared down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Sunset stood there, slowly taking a seat and buried her face in her hands, her tears stinging as they ran down her face.

Sunset crept into the bedroom hours later, finding Marc already fast asleep. It had been his way for some time now, sleeping the day away or simply tossing and turning all through the night. When the darkness fell, he would be sucked away into his own world where she couldn’t quite reach.

Sunset dropped her clothes where she stood as she turned on the shower, letting the water grow warm and gently wash away the melancholy the day had brought. Sunset wanted to scream in frustration- so close! Every time Marc seemed finally willing to open up she would have to go screw it up. One wrong word said, a gesture too late or too early- Sunset could have kicked herself for her stupidity.

Never, ever force it, Cadance had said. “As if I’ve listened,” Sunset said bitterly. “Oh, Marc, if you’d just talk to me!” Impatience and worry was making her act in haste. Marc was getting closer and closer to actually opening up, true, but it seemed like he was headed for a fate far more grim. She only hoped that he’d let her in before things got out of hand.

Sunset stood there for a time, letting the warm water pour down her body as she let her mind wander. Finally able to rouse herself, she finished up and quietly dried herself, finishing her night’s hygiene before quietly climbing to bed. She turned to face her husband, staring intently at the lines and shadows on his face. He was so young, but it was as if the violence of war had aged him into someone else entirely. The once-confident, determined man she had come to love was gone, not even the hint of a smile upon his face.

She didn’t know how long she lay there before she fell asleep, but the next moment that Sunset opened her eyes the room had gone dark. She turned to check her phone- a little past two in the morning. Why had she woken up?
The sheets rustled and a grunt. Sunset turned and saw her husband in a fit of terror, his dreams becoming a nightmare as he descended into some unknown horror.

“Marc, wake up,” Sunset said softly. “It’s just a dream, wake up.”

Marc tossed himself about, flinching as he gave another grunt- fear, confusion-

“Marc, wake up!” Sunset said, her voice growing. “I promise it’s just a dream, listen to me!”

Marc gave a horrible cry and his arms flailed, reaching desperately for something-

“Marc!” Sunset reached for his shoulder-

A scream of rage and suddenly Marc was atop her, his hands fighting against hers as he pushed past her defenses and squeezed tight against her throat.

“Move! Move, goddammit, keep moving!” Lt. Armor was incensed, his face bloodied as the bombardment began behind him. “Get to your foxholes!”

“Where’s Reyes?” Iron Will bellowed. “He was supposed to be guarding our retreat!”

Both men looked at one another and came to the same horrible conclusion. “Reyes!” They turned and saw a young man running as fast as he could manage, a bloodied leg slowing him down to a haphazard limp, the terror evident in his eyes-

“Reyes, get down!”

A shell fell in between the men, Lt. Armor and Iron Will being tossed back against the brush, a cloud of smoke and dust obscuring the sight of their remaining soldier-

Reyes gave a cry of terror as shrapnel struck against his body, tearing across his cheek and through his armor, a jagged piece taking root in his ankle. He gave a scream of pain and fell to the ground, covering his head as the bombardment continued, his world becoming an endless hellscape of metal and smoke, fire and dust rising and threatening to choke him out-

He didn’t dare move, one simple motion in any direction perhaps his final step towards death. He could feel rocks fall upon him, the concussive blast of the enemy artillery pulsing against his body with a throbbing pain-

In an instant it stopped and the world fell silent. The plains upon which they had fought were still obscured by smoke and the sound and fury had left him disoriented. Reyes, daring to believe he might still be alive, rose to his knees and looked about him. “Sir? Sergeant Iron Will! Sir!” his voice, thin and ragged, was barely audible over the empty plains.

Footsteps from somewhere behind him. Reyes turned to see a pair of figures walking towards him and his heart leapt. “Here!” he called out-

A bullet flew past his ear and Reyes dropped, firing blindly at the two figures and watching one of them fall-

Click! His weapon jammed and Reyes gave a curse, hobbling up as fast as he could and running away, anywhere away from his would-be killers-

The sounds of pursuit came behind him and he heard a throaty roar of a charging man. Reyes hobbled faster, each breath coming in ragged gasps that tore at his throat-

The sound of a weapon being cocked and Reyes braced for the impact-

Nothing came. A curse met his ears and the soldier behind him threw down his weapon, rushing forward and grabbing Reyes about the waist, bringing down to the ground-

The two men threw themselves against one another, Reyes fighting with everything he had to tear the Imperial soldier away from him. Punches and kicks were thrown in a haphazard fury, each man trying to outlast the onslaught of the other. Finally gaining an edge, he threw himself atop the lesser man, clutching him by the throat and slowly choking the very life out of him, watching as the light faded from his eyes…

And then in an instant the world changed, the blood-covered world of war fading away and turning black as the night. The soldier he had killed turned to ash and dust, brown hair turning red, transforming into-

Sunset felt his hand unclench instantly and she sucked in a single, ragged gasp of air, coughing and spluttering as her throat tried to resuscitate her back into the living world. The sound of a weight hitting the floor roused her and, still coughing, she rose to see Marc pressed against the wall nearly out of his mind with horror.

“Oh Jesus, oh Jesus,” he said over and over again, panic overwhelming him as his sleeping nightmare became a waking one. “No, no, goddammit, no…”

“Marc,” Sunset choked, falling to the floor and trying to make her way over to him-

“STAY AWAY!” he screamed, getting to his feet and running down the hall-

“Marc!” Sunset rushed to her feet and tried to catch up, only to hear the front door slam and the sound of a staring engine. In one fluid motion Marc raced out of the driveway and off into the night, leaving a half-strangled, fully terrified Sunset standing at the door.

The world had become a daze as he drove, Reyes turning this way and that in a frenzy, the sound of his father’s laughter in his ears. He was everywhere and nowhere, a horrible cacophony of noise that seemed to bore into his very soul. The line, that unalterable, unbreakable line had been crossed.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he had arrived here, some stretch of woods in the middle of nowhere. His Mustang heavily damaged and bowed face-first into a tree. Battered, Reyes had climbed out and simply slumped against a nearby tree, his face buried in his hands.

He felt the cold, unforgiving metal against his leg and slowly Marc extracted it from his pocket, letting the revolver gleam in the faint moonlight. Each chamber was loaded, six rounds more than capable of doing what needed to be done. Cocking back the hammer, Reyes turned the barrel towards his head, pushing hard into his skin until he was sure it drew blood. His finger lay across the trigger, merely waiting for the slightest squeeze-

Tears came, unbidden and unwelcome. This was how it would end, it had to be done. There would be no renewal of the cycle, no new Estevan. Here it would all end- but why couldn’t he simply pull the trigger?
“Come on, dammit, come on!” Reyes snarled, his voice wrenched by unwanted sobs. “Pull the goddamn trigger, COME ON!” He screamed, willing himself to simply pull and let a bullet fly through his skull-

A sound came to his ears- his phone, lying in the cupholders of his car. In an instant he dropped his weapon and rushed to grab it, recognizing the gentle sounds of his wife. Without hesitation he answered, coming to a halt as his voice went cold.

“Marc, I know you’re there. Can you hear me?” Her voice was all too sweet, gentle and clear as the night sky that filtered through the trees.

“Do you remember when we were just kids? I know it must feel like a lifetime ago, but please… try and think back.”

Reyes gave a shuddering gasp, his mind still racing with the sights and sounds of dying men and the choking gasps of his wife-

“We went to a park one day in the spring. It was beautiful, warm and peaceful… it was like the day had been made just for you and me. We laughed and cried together that day. Do you remember it? Close your eyes and think about it.”

The sounds of gunfire began to fade, the smoke and darkness became distorted. A deep, shuddering breath wracked him and Reyes closed his eyes, the simple memory of all those year ago beginning to rise to the forefront of his mind.

“We had endured so much already,” Sunset said gently. “We’d both suffered. You nearly lost your mother… but we both came through. Because of one another. Because we promised we would always be there for each other when we needed it most. We loved each other.”

Reyes felt tears, white-hot and painful, seep down his cheeks. The memory of such a simple moment had become a potent, powerful agony against him. He wanted so desperately to push the phone away, to never hear another word and to simply pull the trigger that would take his life.

“Marc, I love you,” Sunset declared. “Nothing in this world, nothing anywhere could ever stop me from loving you. The man who defended and fought for me like no one ever has- or ever will. You are my hero. And I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to do this alone. So please, come home. Come home to me. No matter what happens, I won’t let you go.”

MReyes simply sat there in silence, bereaved and wracked by a whirlwind of emotions and agony. He grabbed his pistol and emptied the chambers, letting the unfired rounds clatter to the forest floor. His mind decided, he turned off his phone and walked towards his battered Mustang, turning it on and driving off. It would be a long road back.

Sunset paced back and forth in the living room, her heart hammering madly inside her chest. The phone had been silenced of his own accord, but that meant nothing- he simply could have turned it off and done the unthinkable. She debated whether or not she should call the police, a decision that could potentially leave Marc locked away somewhere. She screamed at herself in rage, wondering if there had been any way to stop him, anything that could have been done to prevent all of this from happening. Please, please let him come home. Please-

The sound of an engine met her ears and headlights flashed through the window. A car died and the world went quiet, soon replaced by footsteps walking slowly to the door.

Reyes staggered through the door, looking this way and that until he saw his wife, wide-eyed and fearful at the sight of him. He walked towards her, stopping as he said, “I messed up the car.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“I’m glad.”

The two stood in silence, each waiting for the other to say something, anything-

Marc’s face shattered like glass and he fell to his knees, a horrible, gut-wrenching cry escaping his lips. “What is wrong with me?” he cried.

Sunset rushed to him, taking him in her arms and letting the world fall away as she held him, gently sushing him with each cry, watching as each tear fell. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” she said softly, feeling his body shake with overpowering emotion. “It’s going to be OK, I promise. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Minutes ticked by, threatening to turn into hours as his energy was finally spent. “Look at me, Marc,” Sunset said firmly, taking her husband’s head in her hands and bringing his bloodshot eyes to face hers. “Listen to me: you and I are going to get through this together. No more secrets-” her voice threatened to break as her own tears began to fall. “We’ll work through this together, for as long as it takes. I will not give up on you. Not now, not ever. So don’t you give up, either, alright?”

Marc gave a small nod and Sunset held him tight, the two intertwined as one, sitting together until the rays of the dawn cracked through the skies.

Author's Notes:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiF09D9TIls

Because there's simply nothing else left to be said.

Comments and corrections below.