Lucas
(17 Days After He Was Rescued)
Darkness. It surrounds me on all sides. A cold, black depth that encompasses me like a weighted blanket of nothingness. I would be concerned if not for this lingering sense that maybe I'm better off staying here. Indulging in the calm. Resting in the quiet abyss of emptiness.
Yet, the desire to surface is a pull I'm not strong enough to fight. Giving in, I follow my awareness as it expands and for the first time, begin wondering how long I've been here. Working through my scattered thoughts, I recall brief glimpses of life happening somewhere beyond the obscurity that envelops me now. Bright lights. The whir of machines. People and voices. Blurs of activity happening somewhere off in the distance, far outside the periphery of my existence, as if it were all just a dream.
Is this what death feels like?
Except no, that can't be it, for how else could I explain the physical sensations vacillating through my body like an electric current? While not painful per se, the discomfort is there, registering along the edges of my subconscious. Mild twinges. Hints of dull aches. Sensations that linger on the surface, so barely there, like the pain's dangling just outside of my reach. I guess I should be relieved, and I would be, if not for this deep-seated void that demands I break free from the numbing fog that's got me tied down.
Christ! What is this? This desperate longing for something that's missing. Or is it someone who's missing...
And that's when it all comes rushing back. Like a tsunami of nightmares, I'm crushed by the weight of the memories until I'm unable to breathe.
The dank hole they stuck us in...
The smell of rot, human waste, and desperation...
The darkness whose depths were so extreme it twisted up my mind and left me questioning if I was even alive.
God, no!
Is that where I am?
Am I still trapped and fighting to keep breathing?
As if shocked into action, my nervous system recoils. Sensations that barely registered moments ago now flare and magnify until I'm left gasping for air. The pain center in my brain chooses this moment to fire up, mixing with the utter panic in my veins until a tortured scream rips from my cracked lips.
That's when I realize I'm awake. With eyes wide open for what feels like the first time, I struggle to get the haziness to clear. Yet even as it does, it's impossible to see beyond the agonizing pain. It's everywhere. On my skin and in my bones. In my heart and in my soul. It's all-encompassing. Inescapable. Overwhelmed and overpowered, painful screams continue to rip through me.
"Lucas! Son! It's all right... help! Someone, we need help!"
I know his voice even before I see him, but try as I might, I don't have the bandwidth to process his words, never mind that he's here. The pain. The terror. Waking up in this strange place. It's all too much input for my battered brain to take. Everything feels off. It's all wrong.
Shifting my gaze to take in the space around me, my heart pounds at the sight of the white, fluorescent lighting and stark white walls. I should be relieved to find myself back in the light, but the antiseptic smell mixed with the agonizing sounds coming from my irritated throat makes me wish I was anywhere but here.
"My wife! Where's my wife?" I gasp, suddenly remembering my entire reason for surviving this nightmare. "I need her. Embree! Where the fuck is my Embree?" I demand while clawing at the wires on my chest and arms, fighting to untangle myself from everything they've got binding me to this bed.
Before I know what's happening, I'm surrounded. Arms come from every direction to restrain me, but the adrenaline coursing through my blood amps me up and leaves me fighting for my life.
Because I must get free.
Because I promised her I'd do whatever it took to come home, and I swear to fucking Christ I WILL make it back to her!
"Mr. Holt! I'm Dr. Zeller. We need you to calm down! Can you do that for us, please?" The man in the white coat asks, his words frantic as he scans over the others who fight to contain me. "If not, we'll have to sedate you again."
"Fuck you! Where is my wife?" I scream at him, refusing to heed his request, much less answer his questions until he answers mine first. Yet, when my own words come through my ears, I'm shocked by the sound. The break in my voice and the way it comes out like a desperate plea instead of the threatened command I'd intended only adds to my confusion. "What is happening? I need my wife. Someone, please go get my wife!"
Breaking free, I swing at one of my captors, catching the man's jaw before I'm restrained against the bed once again. This time, the pain and weakness in my body catch up to me and render me unable to fight back. That the vessel I've toned, honed, and developed to be my greatest weapon refuses to comply feels like the ultimate betrayal.
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a woman injecting something into an IV bag that hangs by the top of the bed. Desperate to understand, I follow the lines from the machine and to my horror realize they're attached to me.
"What did you do?" I growl at her. "What the fuck did you do?"
Furious at my captors, I scan my surroundings, taking in every face and committing it to memory so I can enact my vengeance once I get free. When my gaze lands on the only face I recognize, it's the deep look of sorrow in his eyes that gives me pause. In an instant, the fight leaves me but is quickly replaced with a deep sense of dread. Staring at the man who's like a father to me and seeing the pity and regret radiating from him terrifies me down to my core.
"Pastor, what is happening? Please, just tell me where she is," I beg, choked up with emotion as despair seeps deep into the dark recesses of my worthless soul.
I fucking lived!
I gave everything I had to make sure that I survived.
Shouldn't that be enough?
Aren't I owed this one thing?
As the tingling numbness from the medication spreads through my blood, I watch as he gives a slight shake of his head and lets out a sad sigh. It's then that I'm struck by a feeling of déjà vu. Memories of a time gone past assault my senses, and suddenly I remember how he wore that same expression as he tore my heart with the devastating truth. A truth I cannot bear, let alone bring myself to accept, and yet there it is again. Further solidifying this unimaginable reality that leaves me questioning why I'm still here.
"No! Please God no!" I plead as the weight from this catastrophe rips a sob straight through my chest.
She was my reason for breathing.
For existing.
For fighting and surviving.
How the fuck am I supposed to do this without her?
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Author's Note:
This is a small glimpse of what Lucas endured in the aftermath of his rescue, as he struggled to come to terms with what happened and the fact the life he imagined with Embree wasn't real.
I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter. Can you imagine what it would feel like to survive, only to come home and realize that what he lived for didn't exist?
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BROKEN COURAGE (Broken Redemption Book 3)
RomanceWhile tortured and held captive as a prisoner of war, she became my reason to keep breathing. The force that fueled my will to fight. To survive. When I woke after the rescue to discover the life I thought I was coming home to was but a figment of m...
