The Phoenix Ch. 02

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Ghosts
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/27/2022
Created 11/02/2013
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Hey readers! New year, new chapter! Thank you all for your comments and feedback. You help me learn and grow. Please keep them constructive and keep them coming. A special thank you to my fantastic editor, Nehkara. I hope you enjoy!

-Kat

*

Erin gasped for breath, her hands clawing at the air above her. She was trembling and felt a sheet of cold sweat on her skin. The darkness in her bedroom was foreign and terrifying. Her heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. Hard.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm the fuck down.

The taste of blood in her mouth brought her back. She opened her eyes again and recognized the guest bedroom of her sister's duplex. She fussily kicked the sheets off, then instantly regretted it as the sweat cooled her skin and reminded her it was winter. She yanked the covers back on, pulling them over her head. She turned over onto her side and sighed heavily.

Get it together Erin! This is bullshit. You know it is.

But with all her tough talk, Erin couldn't calm her pounding heart. Hot tears began to bloom in her eyes. She tried, and failed, to push them back. She closed her eyes again, but was brought back to the dream.

To the roof.

To the feel of the rifle in her hand.

To the screaming.

She opened her eyes. A tear slid from her left eye, over her nose and into her right eye. She squinted as she sobbed, trying to darken the world without going back to the dream.


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In the morning, Erin stood in the bathroom, bent over the sink. She'd filled the basin with cold water and was staring down at the clear ripple of it. She looked back up at her reflection and instantly saw the puffy swell of her eyelids and the pink hue around her irises. She plunged her face into the water, the chill temperature causing goosebumps to rack her body. The water was bracing, but soothing on her eyes. She stood there, not breathing, taking it all in. Eyes closed, she was transported back in time again...

She was lying back on rough sandy ground. The hot Iraq sun blared down on her broken body mercilessly. There was a high sharp ringing in her ears. Her head quaked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. She wanted to open her eyes, but they were sealed shut and gritty.

Oh God no... what happened? Where are the others? Where is Iman? David? Tristan?

Her lips were dry and cracked badly. She wanted to open her mouth but was afraid that she'd choke on her own blood.

Blood. The world around her reeked with it. Sand and blood.

But something stronger pierced through of disorientation in her mind.

Pain.

White hot and apparent. Pain everywhere. Her leg. Her arm. Her back. The agony was all too intense, all too real again. Her body was on fire, it felt like a raging inferno blazing deep within her flesh, until even her bones felt raw. It rushed to her in sudden flashes.

The cargo truck. The guys. The man....

I know you. But, why are you here? You shouldn't be here?

The man's face. The man's tears. The man's finger, moving, pressing down.

The explosion.

Erin began to scream.

Cold water filled her nose and mouth and she started to choke. She screamed into the water, air escaping her lungs into bubbles that left her gasping. Instinct finally kicked in and Erin's arms push her back from the sink hard, flinging her back onto the tile floor. She gasped and kicked back until her back hit the wall. Sobs and breaths racked her chest. Her head shook from side to side, trying to escape her memories. A moment later, Morgan was in the room.

"Erin!" she cried as she got down to her knees next to her sister. Morgan kicked the door closed and held Erin's face in her palms, trying to steady her.

"Erin honey come back! Its ok! You're ok!"

Erin looked up at her like she was seeing a stranger.

"Deep breaths little sis. Do it with me now." Morgan placed a firm hand just beneath Erin's neck, on her chest. She looked her in the eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled. When she didn't see Erin mimic her actions, she pressed harder. Erin began to focus and copy her sister, heaving in deep breaths through her nose and out her mouth. The sisters stayed like that, breathing and focusing for an unknown period of time. They were only disturbed by a soft rapping on the bathroom door.

"Mommy?" Dannie's worried tone captured their attention. "Is everything ok?"

"Yes baby," Morgan replied, "auntie just had a little fall and I was helping her up."

"But you've been in there forever," Dannie said suspiciously.

"I fell really hard Dannie," Erin said, her voice cracking.

"Ok..."

They heard her walk away slowly. They looked back at one another then, trying to assess.

"Morgan-"

"Forget about it," Morgan said quickly.

Morgan crawled over to the bathroom floor towel and started wiping up the cold water. She didn't look at Erin.

"Morgan..." Erin said pathetically. Her voice was filled with tears, making the sound of her sister's name crack in the air.

Morgan looked back. Erin was crying again. She'd never looked so young to Morgan as she did right then. She saw the round sweet face of her baby sister. Her heart could have shattered in her chest right then. She stood quickly and yanked Erin up with her. She threw her arms around Erin and held her tight.

"It's ok little me. It's ok, I promise."

"I'm so sorry Morgan."

"Sssshhhh." Morgan rubbed her back and felt Erin bury her face in her hair. She smiled. Erin hadn't done it in years. "You still are going to therapy?"

Erin nodded.

"Then don't worry about it. It's ok. You're ok."

Erin pulled back and smiled a sad smile at her sister. Morgan mirrored it.

"Mooooommmmyyyyy!!" Dannie wailed from downstairs. "I'm hungry!"

"You hungry?" Morgan asked as she flicked away a tear from Erin's cheek.

"Ain't I always?"


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The chip had warmed on Wyatt's forehead. He almost couldn't feel it anymore.

Almost.

He rolled over to his side and let the chip fall to the pillow next to him. It was cheap little thing, red and yellow checker edges. He stared at it.

18 months. 18 long, dry months.

His body ached and he could practically feel the bags under his eyes. But it was Saturday. And thank God for that. He'd caught up on all his grading; he had no school meetings or specials this weekend. No fundraising events or "Become a better Teacher" classes. Just him and his chip. And the good folks at Alcoholics Anonymous.

He dragged the covers over his head and closed his eyes. He knew he'd have to get up soon. The Thirst liked to creep in when he wasn't otherwise occupied. It liked to invade his quiet moments, break the silence in his thoughts. It took over his tongue. Made him fidget. Made him jumpy.

Made him angry.

Why the fuck can't I have a drink? I'm a grown ass man. I'm not hurting anyone. I should be able to have a drink in my own home, in my own private sanctuary, without going through this bullshit!

That was the Thirst talking. Trying to trick him. But the last time he'd allowed the Thirst in, someone had died.

"Never again," he swore aloud.

Wyatt opened his eyes at the memory. He sighed heavily and grabbed the sobriety chip. He strung the leather chain through it and slipped it back over his neck. His cell phone buzzed on his nightstand then. He pressed the green button without looking.

"You up?"

"Yeah Casey. I'm up."

"Good man. I'm at the door."

"And I'm naked."

"Ugh!" Casey scoffed. "Well put some clothes on. I brought treats!"

Wyatt smiled. "Alright. One sec."

He hung up the phone and set it down. In less than a minute, he was in boxers and a shirt and was at his house door. He opened it to see his sister was holding up a pink pastry box.
"Did someone order cupcakes!" She beamed.

"No." Wyatt grunted in response. He turned around and walked back into the house, knowing his sister was following. He sat down at the island counter and Casey plopped the pink box down next to him.

"What's wrong with you, grumpy?" she asked.

Wyatt just stared at her. Her red hair was piled sloppily on top of her head. A fading bruise encircled her left, light green, eye. Her slender frame was wrapped tightly in a black mini and she was wearing a man's black button up. She smelled like alcohol and cologne being poorly masked in body spray. He frowned at her.

"What was his name?"

Casey tensed visibly.

"I don't know-"

"Case."

She sighed and plopped down in a stool next to his. "Duchanne. Professor Duchanne."

Wyatt dropped his head. "One of your professors Case? Are you kidding me?"

Casey rested back on her elbows. "Not MY professor. A professor. His name is Andrew and he's a very distinguished man, don't you know. I'm dating up!"

"Case-"

"Don't start." She got off the stool. "I came to check on you. Not to be lectured."

"Casey, how old is this guy?"

"Does it matter?"

Wyatt glowered. "Yes. Your only 21."

"And you're 27. What's your point?"

Wyatt sighed dejectedly and rubbed his eyes. "We seriously can't both be this fucked up."

"I'm not fucked up." Casey said snidely.

"Only fucked?" Wyatt mumbled.

Case stared at him, openly hurt. "What the hell, Wyatt?" She looked close to tears. Wyatt instantly regretted his words.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." He grabbed for her arm, but she yanked back. They stared at one another, tense with unanswered questions.

"Why are you acting so mean?" Casey asked childishly. Her pale skin was flushed. "I just came to check on you and you're treating me like a slut."

"Bad morning. 18 months dry."

Casey sighed and wiped away the tears. She looked at him earnestly. "Damn. That sucks."

Wyatt smirked. "Aren't you supposed to be congratulating me?"

"For struggling? No." She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his chest. She seemed so small and fragile, like a bird he wanted to protect. He felt the weight of his failure to do so. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her widow's peak.

"I'm sorry," He said quietly, "I shouldn't have taken my bullshit out on you. I just want to look out for you."

"And I'll look out for you."

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "18 months, huh?"

Wyatt nodded.

"That sounds god-awful. Not a drop?"

"Not a drop."

"Want me to throw you a party or something? Isn't that what people do?"

Wyatt laughed. "No. No parties."

"Then what do you want?"

Wyatt looked away. "To not be an alcoholic anymore."

"Aren't you not?"

Wyatt sat down with Casey. He pulled out a cupcake and handed her one before taking a big bite into his own.

"It doesn't work like that. I am what I am. I'm just smothering it."

"Then how does it end?"

"I don't know. I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out."

He set the cupcake down and sighed. Casey rubbed his back. "You're doing real good Wyatt. I know I'm not always the best help-"

"You check on me like every day."

"When I'm not screwing my own life up, yeah."

Wyatt patted her on the back of the head. "Naw. You're doing pretty good. How are finals?"

"Some good, some bad. I'm studying, I swear."

"You better not just be saying that."

Casey gave her brother a wry smile.

"What about you? How are your kids doing?"

"Good. The winter play is the weekend after next. Lots of parents."

"Geez. Talk about reasons to drink."

They laughed and munched on cupcakes.

"Did I leave some clothes here?"

Wyatt nodded.

"Good. I'm gonna bum a shower before I head out."

"Please do. I think I smell old guy ball sweat on you."

"Why do you know what old man's ball sweat smells like? Got a secret to tell me?"

"Naw. I'm just used to smelling it on you."

Wyatt laughed as Casey rained her small fists over his back. "Asshole!"

Wyatt smiled as she shuffled off. He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. Casey was there, always checking, always worrying. But he knew couldn't really talk to her. She was carefree at heart. He knew he couldn't talk to her. Not really. He couldn't talk to anyone.


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"Have you spoken to Wyatt?" Dr. Sullivan asked.

"Not a bit." Erin answered lazily.

"May I ask why not?"

Erin shrugged. "I greet him when I pick up Dannie. I smile. He smiles. We talk about the weather, Dannie's school work, etc."

"And are you satisfied with this relationship?"

"There is no relationship."

"But you want one? With him?"

Erin sighed.

"You've got to give to receive, Erin."

"You know you're right Doc." Erin sat up. "Maybe I'll blow him beneath his desk next time."

"I suppose you could take the direct approach, yes."

Erin smiled at the doctor, and the doctor smiled back. "Our time is up. Any last bits? Anything else you want to tell me about the attack in the bathroom?"

"Nope. I think you got it all."

"Next session, I'd like to hear about progress with Wyatt."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Dr. Sullivan escorted Erin through the door.

"Is the rehab here only for veterans?" A man was talking to Dr. Sullivan's receptionist.

Erin thought she recognized the voice. She turned away from the doctor and walked to the lobby.

Wyatt was standing at the front desk. He was dressed simply, dark jacket and jeans, white V-neck and converse sneakers. But he was startling to her, like she'd somehow summoned him here. She'd wanted to try more with him, to make a friend, but had lost her tongue every time they met. Now here he stood looking rather sexy, if not a bit messy.

Without thinking, Erin's legs propelled her backwards. She scurried behind a wall, away from Wyatt's line of sight. Dr. Sullivan walked up and hid next to her.

"What are we doing?" She whispered gleefully.

Erin jerked a thumb towards the lobby. "Wyatt."

Dr. Sullivan edged from the wall and peeked around to see.

"Mmm. He's damn adorable."

Erin glared at her.

"Go on Erin. What are you hiding for?"

"How do I explain why I'm here?" Erin whispered fiercely.

"You don't. Start simple. Say hello. Ask him to lunch. You want to, don't you?"

Erin gnawed on her bottom lip.

"You'll thank me later." Without warning, Dr. Sullivan grabbed Erin by her shoulders and shoved her forward, creating a noisy ruckus as she did so. Both the receptionist and Wyatt looked up at Erin. She flustered and straightened up.

"Hey Erin." Wyatt greeted her.

"Hello Wyatt." She said back.

Come on Erin. Do this. Stop being a pussy. Just do this.

She walked up to him. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Uh, just getting some information for a friend. What about you?"

"Um..." Erin froze.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I say!

"I have post-traumatic stress disorder." Erin mouth blurted out a million miles a minute. "I get nightmares and panic attacks and flashbacks from my time in service. I think I'm crazy and I suck at making friends. And you make me nervous. I can't really say why, but you do. So now you know. So goodbye." Erin finished in one breath and almost sprinted out of the office.

"Fuck!" She cried to herself as she trotted to her car.

What the fuck was that? Is that how you talk to people?

"Erin!"

I mean, you let it all out! You're ridiculous!

"Erin wait!"

Fucking keys! Open the door. Get me out of here!

Erin felt a hand on her shoulder turn her around. Wyatt was standing over her, panting a little. He was close, occupying her entire world, though they were standing outside in the snow.

"Sorry. If I scared you Erin. Just, sorry."

Erin frowned. "You're apologizing?"

Wyatt nodded. "What you said back there-"

"Please forget about it."

"No Erin." Wyatt took a step closer to her. Erin felts her back press against her car. She struggled to keep eye contact with him.

His hair. It's kind of red too. Not just brown. Green eyes, such green eyes.

Erin stared. He looked as nervous and enclosed as she felt.

"We have things in common, I think." He said softly.

Erin was afraid to breathe. A breath too big could make them touch. And if they touched...

"What would that be?" She asked.

"I suck at making friends too. But, I think... I feel like we could be friend's maybe."

"I was in therapy Wyatt. That's why I was there. And all those things I said-"

"I lied," he spoke abruptly, "back in the lobby. I lied. I was lying. I wasn't in there for a friend. I'm..." he stuttered then.

"It's ok. You don't have to say it."

"I drink. I mean, I used to drink. Alcohol I mean. Lots of it. I mean not extreme, but, like, a lot. Way too much. But I don't anymore. I mean I'm trying. Shit."

Wyatt took a step back, taking Erin's breath with him.

"Shit. Ok, so I'm telling you all this," he continued without looking at her, "because I can't tell people. I mean I'm a teacher, you know? But don't get me wrong, I haven't drunk since I got the job. I swear to it. Not a single drop."

Erin just watched him, wide-eyed, listening. He dared not look at her, not until he was done.

"I was in there because I wanted... I need to talk about it. I mean I go to AA every Sunday, but I kind of hate everyone there. " He gave an gawky laugh. "I thought maybe they could help me. I don't know. But then I saw you and you said all that stuff and I thought... maybe I could tell you."

"Me?"

Wyatt looked at her then.

"Why me?"

"Because you're a mix."

Erin frowned. "A mix."

"Yeah. You see," Wyatt explained, "people usually want to unload on two kinds of other people: someone who knows the implacable and can speak on their character or a total stranger that can speak objectively or whose opinion they can disregard. You're a mix. We've both already said what's fucked up in us. But not everything. I don't know you well enough, and you don't know me well enough, but we aren't strangers. We still have potential. We can be... friends."

Wyatt smiled at the last word. "Hello. I'm Wyatt Evans. I'm a recovering alcoholic. I get nightmares, I fidget a lot, and sometimes have a hard time staying on the wagon. I'm an elementary school teacher, if you can believe it. I love my job and I'd never let my crap at home affect it." Wyatt held out a hand to her.

Erin stared down at it, frowning. "What is this? What are you doing?"

Wyatt's smile faltered. "I just..."

"What is this? Why do you want to know about me?"

Wyatt withdrew his hand. "Nevermind I guess."

He looked dejected. Guilt spiked in Erin's heart, which pissed her off.

"You just told me you're a drunk, teaching my little niece, and what am I supposed to do? Spill my guts? Pretend like this is ok?"

"Hey." Wyatt frowned. "I've NEVER drank while teaching. Not a drop. Not a beer. I don't even put alcohol on my cuts. I'm trying to get better. I thought maybe you'd understand that."

Wyatt turned away and started walking.

Erin stared at his back.

I owe him nothing. I don't even know him. Why should I let him in?

Wyatt looked back then, only for a second. His eyes met hers, before turning away.

Fuck.

Erin ran towards him. When she caught up, she grabbed his elbow.

"Are you busy?" She said in a huff. "I mean now. Are you busy right now?"

Wyatt frowned. "No."

"Good. Let's go. I'm hungry and I know a place nearby."

Wyatt stayed still. "Why? What changed your mind?"

Erin looked up at him. "I need a friend."


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He really does fidget.

Erin watched Wyatt order a cheeseburger and she had to bite her lip as not to smile.

Why does he have to be so adorable?

He was bouncing a straw on the table and stuttering on "no onions." He hadn't spoken much during the walk from the Dr. Sullivan's. Just stuffed his hands into his jeans and avoided eye contact.

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