- 12 -

1.8K 34 9
                                    

"Look, if you don't answer my questions, I'm going to have to fail your evaluation," the man said, watching the woman across from him closely. Elizabeth sat there, her arms crossed, staring at the man. Couldn't they have let her have her normal therapist? "Your file says you were in Afghanistan for a year. Did you go back when you crashed?"

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not with you."

The man began writing down something on the notebook in his lap.

"Do you tend to have attacks during high-stress situations?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Have you ever felt like you were going to die?" she said shortly.

"I'm supposed to be asking the questions," he said, gulping a bit at the dark look the soldier gave him. He shifted in his seat before sighing. "No, I have not."

"Then you are not familiar with the feeling of everything around you crashing down and going out of your control. Your body's natural will to live." She was firm and direct with her speech, not letting him read anything other than a soldier irritated with people who didn't understand asking her the same 15 questions. "You try flying a multimillion-dollar plane that is supposed to be state of the art. Now imagine a bird hitting your jet, causing you to lose any semblance of control over your life, only for the one thing you trust yourself with to betray you by not shooting you off into safety." She hadn't noticed him aggressively writing. She was too focused on telling him off that she was giving him everything he needed. "So yes. Yes, I went back to one of the many times I felt like I was going to die," she huffed and glared lightly before noticing the man's writing.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Mitchell," he said, pushing his glasses up on his face.

"What..."

"Thank you, for your service, and for explaining how you feel. That's important to do," he said simply, catching her off guard.

She sat up straighter shifting uncomfortably, causing the man to chuckle.

"Oh, thank you."

"I had no intention of failing you unless you didn't speak. But you did. Besides, it's normal for a situation like this to cause an outburst of past trauma. I do not think it will hinder your actions in the field. Now please hand this to Admiral Simpson," he said, handing her a folder with her name on it.

She gently took it before thanking him, a shit-eating grin forming on her lips as she waved at the receptionist and out the door. Her grin widened when she saw Jake and her father, but frowned when she saw her father's red blotchy eyes.

"What's wrong?" She frowned, looking at her father before looking at Jake, who also had a frown.

"Lizzy," Pete whispered, causing her to look at her father again.

"What the hell is going on?" she questioned, mind racing with what it could possibly be.

"Ice is dead," her father breathed out quickly, trying his hardest to keep it together.

Her blood ran cold.

"W-what?"

"His cancer came back, honey," he said, stepping forward. Tears were already beginning to fall.

"W-why didn't he tell me..." she whispered. Her breathing picked up as the reality of her uncle Tom being dead began to hit her.


Keep Your Eyes On MeOù les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant