After losing my father, my mother, my two best friends, and my home, I didn’t think I had anything left to lose. The reality of losing Hudson hit me like a moving train. Or like someone cut out a piece of my heart and shoved it down a garbage disposal.

Emptiness erupted in my soul, and my body crumbled beneath its metaphorical weight. I couldn’t see my future, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t feel I had any right to continue living. Why did I deserve another chance at life when so many people I cared about weren’t afforded the same opportunity? What made me so special? Why was I special?

Amelia left after a few hours to go home and check on Charlie. I didn’t blame her; I wouldn’t want to stick around to see me sink below the depths of reality, either. Before she left, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my forehead. But I didn’t feel it. My body rejected her warmth and kindness. I wanted her to leave. I wanted to be alone.

Once she closed the door, my demons took hold. I turned off all the lights in my room and lay on my bed, motionless. The sunset and the moon had risen by now, just as the light had left my life, surrounding me in darkness too.

Sleep wouldn’t come either. My mind wandered and dragged me into the past, farther back than I ever wanted to go.

I was on the streets again, lost and wandering down the avenues bursting with people who have their lives together. I was just another face in a crowd of humans. No one noticed me, and I didn’t notice them. There I was, back in the desert, with my two friends beside me. One was blown away, never to exist again. Even farther back, I stood watching as the towers burned from the inside out. Smoke and ash filled the air, and I knew my father was gone. He was dead. They were all dead.

I don’t know how long I lay there, unmoving, but the sun rose once again. But I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. It was Monday, and I had to go to work, but I couldn’t imagine leaving my room. I couldn’t imagine pretending like everything is okay.

For the first time in several hours, I managed to hoist myself off my bed and reach for my burner phone. It was all I could afford with my first paycheck after paying rent and buying groceries. I called my boss and let him know I was sick and wouldn’t make it in today. Guilt weighed heavily on my stomach. I couldn’t afford to miss a day of work, and yet I couldn’t afford to be at work either.

I knew what I needed to do: shower, eat breakfast, and brush my teeth. I knew I should call Hudson’s parents and tell them how sorry I am for the loss of their son. I should call his wife and my goddaughter. I should be there to support all the others affected by his death. But, I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. I knew it was selfish. I knew his wife was suffering, and his daughter would grow up without a father. I knew I was a bastard for only caring about myself, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.

Amelia called me four times and texted during the night. I hadn’t replied and didn’t want to either. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, because the only voice I wanted to hear was that of a man on a flight back to the United States, in a casket wrapped with a flag. Hudson was the only person I wanted, and he was the one I could’t have.

I should have been in the casket, not him. He has a family and a future. Well, had.

Eventually, I drifted in and out of restless sleep. Helicopters and gunshots rattled my mind. There was another war; only this time, it was inside me.

I spent the next three days in the same routine. Tossing and turning in my bed, avoiding all phone calls except to call in sick, and missing the fuck out of everyone in my life who left too soon.

Amelia stopped by last night, but I pretended to be asleep. She knocked a few times and struggled to open the door. I locked it for this exact purpose. I didn’t want her pity or her sympathy. I deserved to suffer, and I deserved to be all alone. Not to mention, she didn’t deserve a man in her life who’d drag her down into his pit of misery. Amelia was a good woman with a big heart. She could do better than me.

Thursday arrived, and I still hadn’t eaten, bathed or gone to work. Someone knocked firmly on my bedroom door, but I didn’t move to answer it.

“William?” The halfway house’s manager called. “I’m sorry, but I need you to open the door. I’ve gotten several calls about you, and I need to see you. It’s after seven o’clock at night; open up!”

I sighed and realized I couldn’t hide any longer. I slid out of bed, avoiding the reflection in the mirror as I unlocked the door.

The manager stepped in, and his jaw dropped. “William!” he gasped. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

White spots invaded my vision, and the room spun rapidly around me. My manager’s voice faded, and within seconds everything went dark.