Callum PTSD One Shot

PTSD One Shot

Callum wakes with a start, the sound of explosions echoing loudly in his ears. Sweat drenched his forehead, dripping slightly down his brow. Sitting up quietly in his room, darkness encasing the small space, seeping it's way through his bones, Callum rested his head gently in his hands. His mind swirled. It had been two months since he was medically discharged from the Army, a diagnosis of PTSD written boldly on a piece of paper handed to Callum, as well as shrapnel wounds littering his body. A harsh reminder that his career had ended the moment he stepped into a land mine. It had been four whole weeks since he'd last left this room, his hair remained a spiking mess, evidence that he hasn't washed it in so many days. Curtains remained drawn, and clothes scattered across the floor. Picking up his phone, he scrolls through, sighing heavily, seeing his army friends posting photos of them together, their happy faces lighting up the screen, but Callum knew better than to believe the photos. He knew the smiles were a lie. Behind them was hurt, suffering and images that were engrained within the mind of their beholder.
Images flashed within Callum's mind. Smoke, fire, bullets and bodies. A brutal reminder that he couldn't save his friends. The family he watched die in-front of him. People he treated like family. Those people had a family, daughters or sons, wives or husbands, and it swirled round in Callum's mind, the guilt eating him.

Bang, bang, bang.

The noise startled Callum, causing him to instinctively curl up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs and gently rocking himself.
"Callum? It's just me." The sound of Ben's voice ricocheting through his house, caused his heartbeat to rise, like there was an electric current running through him, spiking at the sound of his boyfriend. Climbing gently off the bed, he trudged his way to the door, opening it the slightest fraction, allowing Ben to slip through, before quickly closing it and bolting it shut again. He turns round gently, noting the expression on the shorter mans face.
"What?"
"Nothing, how are you feeling?" Ben kicks himself mentally, wondering what part of his brain thought it was acceptable to ask someone who he knows isn't fine how they're feeling. "Alright I suppose." Callum's reply is futile, and holds little conviction.
Sighing softly, Ben pulls him to his chest gently, allowing Callum to rest his head within the crook of his neck. "I'm here, always."
His comment earns a small smile from Callum, acknowledgment of what he said.
"Thank you." He replies, placing a gently kiss to Bens forehead before taking himself back to bed.
Ben follows behind, he knows the routine now, eat, sleep, cry, repeat. He feels helpless, unsure how to help his boyfriend, his best friend. He does the only things he knows how, he sits with Callum, chatting away, reminding him of a life outside these walls, ensuring him that once he's ready, he will be there to support him and help him.

As Ben tells Callum about his week, Callum's mind once again wanders. Back to the night that cost him everything, his sanity, and mind and very nearly his life. Chris.

"GET DOWN!!" He hears his commander shouting from somewhere behind him, and he immediately falls to the floor, body flat against the dirt and dust. Callum's mind raced, his training popping through his head in a slideshow. Roll and tuck. Roll and tuck.
Callum looked at Chris, who held a small smile, reserved just for him. "Remember what I said Halfway, don't loose focus on what's important." Callum's nods vigorously. "Save the kid, get outta there, and don't get killed." He laughed, but Callum could tell he was scared, he could tell because he felt that emotion himself.
Crouching down, as low as his enormous height would allow, Callum slowly walked towards the building, the sound of rapid gunfire ringing in his ears. He didn't dare look for the source, instead focusing his attention on getting to the target, and back safely. The car drove slowly beside him, offering cover, safe passage. Well as safe as you could get in Afghanistan, whilst numerous bullets were spraying the warm air.
Entering the building he could hear crying, the sign of his target, becoming apparent. Following the cries, he spotted a little girl, no older than 5 standing in a corner, her mother holding her tightly, trying her hardest to sooth her daughters cries. "Hello, I'm Halfway, we're gonna get you out of here okay, it's gonna be okay." He offers a reassuring smile before turning to the mother. "I need you to follow me exactly where I stand, do exactly what I say, okay?" She nods so hard, Callum is wondering how her head is still attached.
"Let's go. Captain, I've got them, we're heading back now, requesting cover."
"Okay Halfway, cover in position, make your way back."
Upon hearing the command form his chief, he slowly begins to walk out the building, the gun heavy in his hands, careful where he places his feet. They make it less than a metre back to where they're supposed to be before he hears a click, the heart wrenching sign someone had stood on a land mine.
"NOBODY MOVE" he orders, until he can determine who it was, looking down, he notices it's not him, or the little girl, tightly attached to his hip. Turning gently he sees terror within his colleagues eyes as he looks down to where the little girls mother is standing still, her foot pressed gently on a mine. Chris is standing directly behind her. Callum watched in horror as an explosion lights the sky, followed swiftly by multiple more, the pressure triggering every mine within the distance. Grabbing the girl quickly, Callum runs, never turning back, until he's safely out of the land mine.
Turning, he watches as the field fills with smoke, embers of orange and yellow sparkling through the sky like fireworks.
"Chris..." he whispers to no one but himself, whilst the girl beside him screams for her mother. Both people lost forever.