Lee

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Two men held me up with the belt around my waist and ropes that were attached to rings on it. I held onto parallel bars to support myself. My leg that had been amputated was propped up on a knee walker and the other one was shaking as I supported myself on it.

“Shit! I can’t believe I used to run half marathons. This is ridiculous.”

“You’ve been in bed for weeks, Lee. What do you expect?” It was JB that spoke.

“Yeah. You’re not Supergirl,” Danny said.

“Shut up. Just don’t say anything else. Neither of you needs to remind me of where I’ve been. Ugh.” One more step and I was groaning. “Fuck me. This is brutal.”

“You sure cuss a lot for a girl,” JB chastised me.

“You sound like my mother,” I retorted.

“Well, you do. Wait. I take that back. You cuss a lot, period.”

“If I didn’t need to hang onto to these damn bars for dear life, I would so flip you off.”

Danny moved in front of me, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Idle threats. Take it like a woman why don’t you?”

“One of these days, I’m going to kick that skinny ass of yours, you little shit.” And right now, I wasn’t even close to joking.

JB looked at me and then at Danny. “Dude, I don’t think she’s kidding. I’d back down if I were you.”

“Seriously?” Danny asked JB.

“As a heart attack, dude. Look at her. Smoke is about to shoot out of her nostrils.”

“Good thing she can’t catch me then, huh?”

“Why you little sonofabitch. One day I’m going to clean your clock and shove my foot up your ass so far …”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm it down Mike Tyson.” JB was waving the peace sign at me. But I was so pissed I took about five steps right toward Danny.

“And would you look at that.” Danny had a smug look on his face. “I knew I could get her pissed off enough to forget about everything and do the dirty.”

“The dirty?” I asked.

“Yeah. Walk. You’ve been saying how hard it was. And how weak you were. I only took your mind off it and put it somewhere else. Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

He walked behind me and then gave my ass a good hard slap.

“You’re trying your damnedest to piss me off, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight I am. You’re so hard headed it’s the best way to get you going. Now move it, grunt.” Danny laughed.

“Hey, that was really low. I might be a jarhead with half a leg, but I’m no grunt.”

Danny couldn’t let it go. “No, but your head is as soft as a grunt.”

JB, who had been silently watching our exchange up to this point finally said, “Are you two sure you’re not brother and sister?”

“Ew,” I groaned. “That’s just gross.”

“My own sentiments.” Danny looked equally as repulsed.

“Wait a damn minute. What’s wrong with being my brother?” I asked.

“Because you sound like you’ve been laying in the gutter for years, trash mouth. No sister of mine would ever talk like that.”

My mouth clamped shut so hard my teeth rattled. What the fuck? Was I that bad? Did I need to rein it in?

I was considering my vermin vocabulary when JB said, “You are golden. Congrats, girl. You have reached a new level!” I looked down to see that I had made it to the end.

“I’ve never done this before.” Both guys put their fists out and I bumped them. “Do you really think I’m a trash mouth?”

They both stared without answering.

“Oh, come on guys.”

JB’s brows lifted and Danny shrugged. But that was it. JB grabbed my wheelchair while Danny unbuckled the belt.

“Princess, your carriage has arrived. Don’t forget to do your leg lifts, your majesty, and we shall see you tomorrow. Your ride back to the palace awaits.”

I stuck my tongue out at them as I sat on my wheels and headed home for the day. Trash mouth. Maybe I needed to clean up my act. Or at least tone it down. I hadn’t used a filter much ever since the accident. Accident, my ass. The fucking bomb that those ratfaced bastards had intentionally left for us to stumble upon. Lucky for us I spotted the thing. Or we all would have been strumming harps right now. Well, maybe some of us. I probably would’ve been stoking the fires with coal.

“Marston, you up for some chess?”

Looking across the room, I noticed a fellow amputee who I regularly matched up with begging for a game.

“Nah, not right now. I’m tired from PT. Maybe later.”

“Pussy.”

I flipped him off and kept on rolling. The truth was, I wasn’t in the mood for company. Even though I spent more time with JB and Danny than anyone else here, they had gotten the best out of me, and now I wanted the rest of the day to myself. Only problem was, every time I closed my door, I heard the blast. And then the screaming. The question I had no answer for was—who was screaming? A voice in the back of my head always answered me. It’s you, dumbass. I was the one screaming in pain. Yelling out in agony. Then I would sit alone in my room for hours and shake.

My parents came out to visit as often as they could, but I was about four hours away from them and they both worked. I put on my happy face when they were here, but even though I hated to say it, I was glad to see them leave each visit.

One day after a particularly nasty session with my resident torturers, JB and Danny, there was a knock on my door and I told whoever dared to disturb my quiet time that they better have a damn good reason for doing so.

The door swung open and in strode a woman who was probably the tallest one I’d ever seen. Not that I was one to notice these things—okay I was a liar. I did notice. How could I not? She had legs that almost reached the ceiling. And long dark hair that nearly hit her ass. She stood in front of me and eyed me for a long, painful minute. I started squirming.

“You about ready?”

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“To talk. You’ve been here going on four months now and all you do is mope around. That’s over. Starting right about”—she checked out her watch and said—“now.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the bitch who’s going to kick your ass from hell and back, that’s who.”

And damn if she wasn’t kidding. No one told me about Marianna Perez. Or I should say, Dr. Marianna Perez, resident psychiatrist, specializing in PTSD. In other words, take no shit off of anyone for any reason whatsoever, Dr. Perez. And I tried. Man did I try. I handed more crap to her on a silver platter, but she threw it right back in my face. At one point, she actually accused me of faking! Told me I wouldn’t know PTSD if it busted down my door. She finally tore me down and built me back up, piece by piece, into the person I used to be. No, I take that back. She made me into something I had only dreamed of being before. Or at least got me pointed in the right direction. I knew I had lots of work to do. I was bitter about losing my leg, more bitter than I could come close to admitting. But that was okay. It was how I dealt with the bitterness that counted. And she helped me figure all that out.

I was inching closer to going home—my real home in Drummond. Therapy was getting better and better. My new prosthesis was on order and when that came in, I would learn how to walk in it. After that, I would be permanently discharged from the marines. I sat in the rec room, laughing at something one of the other guys said when I happened to glance up and saw Jared—Jared, the guy I pushed out of the way of the IED.

He was in full uniform and looked amazing. Behind him stood Randy, Will, and Mark—all of the guys that were with me that ugly day. It was an awkward moment for about two seconds until I waved at them and grinned.

“What are your sorry asses doing here?” I needed something to break the ice, so I thought I’d go with what I used to say to them. It worked.

They all charged over and dropped down so they could hug me. Three tough guys that could barely speak because I suspected their emotions had their tongues all knotted up.

Finally, Jared said, “I owe you my life and my family sent you this.” It was a picture of his family—he, his wife, and kids holding up a sign that said Thanks for saving our dad, Lee. Now it was my turn to shove back the traitorous tears that collected in the corners of my eyes.

Mark and Will gave me cards from their wives that were very emotional as well.

Mark said, “My wife, Jill, wanted to come, but I wouldn’t let her.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted this to be just the guys.”

“Excuse me. Last time I checked, I still had my female bits.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean. We needed to share this time. And then next time we’ll get together with the spouses.”

“Okay. We’d better,” I said.

Will jumped into the conversation. “Oh, if we don’t, Trisha will kill me, so this is already a done deal. She wants to personally hug your neck.”

I lowered my head to wipe my tears. I couldn’t let them see me cry.

“It’s okay, Lou. We’ve all cried like fucking babies,” Jared said.

“Thank God.” I held out my arms and we all hugged again. Then we sat around talking for awhile and they wanted to know if I could go out to eat with them. I had honestly not been out of the hospital for so many months that it freaked the hell out of me, so I politely declined. But I promised that when I was finally sprung out of the joint, we would make it a point to have another reunion.

After they left, I realized Dr. Perez was right. Even though my actions cost me my leg, they had also saved four lives, including my own. I thought about Mark, Will, and Jared, and then their families. I wasn’t ashamed of the tears that spilled down my cheeks. Yes, I was minus part of my leg, and yes, I was fighting to get my life back. But what would their families have been experiencing if I hadn’t seen that Coke can? How would they have gone on without their husbands and fathers? It was a small price in comparison when you put it into perspective.

A couple of weeks later, I mastered my prosthesis—which was a lot harder than I ever thought it would be—and was cleared to go home. With my honorable discharge in hand, I was soon off to the airport, my final destination: Drummond, Virginia.