The Traject Ch. 04

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When one body exerts a force on a second body...
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Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/29/2016
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aka_Mike
aka_Mike
501 Followers

Author's Note: Here is the last chapter in this part of the series telling the Life of D as he tried to reconnect with a less savage world. His struggles mirror many of those troops that returned from the wars without much help in the civilian world, in fact for the longest time the facilities that they returned to were ill prepared for their struggles. While this is not true with every service member, the facts reflected in this story are common place.

Service members return without the ability to form or maintain meaningful relationships, and when someone takes a shot at trying to form those relationships they are unable to look past the years of damage. It is not the fault of the people that cannot understand the struggles, it is not an easy thing to let go of years of anger and pain in a few weeks, sometimes it can take up to three times the amount of time to properly heal.

I hope you enjoy the latest chapters, as you can see the path that this story will take will become a little more visceral, when I began this story it was reflecting a sense that the words written would and could be found in a journal. This is still a fact. Please rate and comment, after this entire series is published I expect that I will be taking another long trip before the weather turns, so there will be a long gap before I come back.

Sturgis bound.

Much love,

aka_Mike

...

The Divertissement of Damian

It was a long drive in complete silence, nothing but the miles of road and my thoughts to keep me company. I was trying to think of every possible scenario as I drove back to my hometown, trying desperately to reach anyone that could give me details about my brother's incarceration. I avoided calling my mother, I knew she would have the most details about the situation, but I was not in the mood to speak to her. I blamed her for how my life in Arizona would come to an end, I had found a wonderful woman in Christina, but just as I was beginning to think that I had found a great woman to share my life with, my mother found a way to ruin it. I know it sounds unfair, but when your entire life is shaped against your will by a person, its difficult to not blame them for how events take place.

Since my childhood, my life had been crafted to have a sharp mind, one that was oriented to take over the family business, I had learned to see human life with little regard. When I walked away from that life, I did so in order to make amends for a terrible tragedy and joined the military as a healer, only to be placed in positions where my earlier life became a huge advantage. I tried to live an honorable life, to start a family and so I married my high school sweetheart. However, as so many stories go, while I was away she felt lonely, she felt like she needed to be needed and so as so many other marriages went, mine ended. My loving wife became pregnant by someone else, just as I had decided to walk away from the death and destruction that the military had forced me to undertake.

At my most lost moments I found myself craving normality, craving the familiarity of the past life, so when my marriage fell apart I sought the battlefield. I found a new one as a member of a private security firm, a military contractor, and a mercenary. That life also found my great assets in war as a bonus, and I quickly climbed the ranks by carving a path of death and destruction wherever I went. With each passing battle I found a peace that was unsettling, I learned to appreciate that the value of my life would be measured with bullets and pints of blood. But even at those moments, regardless of the terrible things that I had done on behalf of my country or my employer, I found some sense of pride in my honor. When I learned that Barbara was a married woman that had used me to break her marriage vows, the only thing that kept me from reaching out and confronting her husband with that information was the identity of the man: Dr. Cargill who had done his very best to help me become a better person. In my mind, that old idiom of ignorance being bliss prevented me from destroying whatever vision he might have held of his own loving wife.

However, this was an unforgivable crime I had committed, and so I atoned in my own way by returning to the savage land and once again taking a rifle in hand to carve another path of violence. So when Rebecca and her wife Martha invited me to join their bed, I refused. I refused to break another marriage apart, much like my own had been. When I met Christina, it was an entirely different experience, but like my other relationships the hands of fate intervened and just when I thought I could finally hang the ammo belt in the closet, the dogs of war came calling. As I covered the miles to my hometown, I consciously tried to strip every single one of those memories, every experience that had brought me warmth and comfort, every fond thought. Some part of me knew that Christina would find someone worthy of her love, but I knew that it could never be me, I would just taint her, change her, damage her, and in the end we would go our separate ways with more bitterness at the world than we already had. I wish it was different, but facts are undisputable.

Finally, after the last of the failed calls I managed to swallow my pride and dialed that phone number that had taken me from my place in paradise and crashed me back to the harshness of reality. By the fourth ring the phone was picked up, and a male voice I recognized as my father's answered with much hesitation.

"Son," he said, "I take it your mother reached out."

"Wanna tell me what's going on? What am I walking into?" My voice was calm and businesslike, my father had never been anything more than honest and honorable with me, and I owed him the same respect.

"Your brother was arrested for weapons charges," he replied, "the family business has fallen on hard times so he took to dealing with weapons to bring in additional revenue. But I would have never thought that he would be stupid enough to carry the weapons in his own vehicle."

"How long ago?"

"He was arrested a few months ago," he replied, "they just sentenced him last week. The family name has lost some of its glamour since you left, not many people fear the name," he continued, "I didn't want you involved in this business after you walked away, but you know how your mother is."

"I remember," I said, "listen, I'm going to be getting there late, make sure that the back room is cleaned."

"All the things there are new," he replied, he understood that I did not want to accidently run into anything that Ann might have left behind, "I'll double check this afternoon, when are you getting here?"

"I should be at your place by midnight," I replied, "I'm driving from Arizona."

"Is that where you're at now? That's good to hear, son. I'll see you when you get here. Call my number and I'll let you in. And son, things are very different here, be careful." He hung up without further words; I looked out to the windshield as I drove through the gathering rain and wind.

"How stupid can you be, Angel," I asked to the wind around me, "you were never this careless before, how much have things changed?" Not for the first time did I think about how much I had changed in the past years, I dared to look at myself with foreign eyes, evaluating everything that I had done and every relationship that I had endured. I was the common denominator, in each single relationship I was the only common factor, was I so broken that I could not hold a single meaningful relationship?

My automatic driving was broken by a small vehicle driving beside me, a silver Dodge Neon with tinted windows, this vehicle reminded me of the one that Ann drove when we first reunited in the back of my parents' house. She had bought that car to be able to drive herself from her place to school to work, saving each dollar religiously for the time when I would come back for her. We used part of that money to go on a great honeymoon to the Florida Keys where we spent the majority of our time in the small cottage in the beach. There was nothing but love in her eyes each time I took her during our time in Florida, but when the orders for my first deployment came through, I could see a little of that love disappearing. At the time I did not recognize it but now looking back it was so obvious. The car passed me and exited as I continued driving, lost in my thoughts again as the chime of my Jeep reminded me that I had not filled up as I drove out.

I pushed the fuel gauge to its limits, once I found a good gas station I decided to pull over to refuel both myself and my vehicle. As I placed my items in the counter, the cashier looked at me and asked "is that all you're having, sugar?" I paid for my items and made my way back to the vehicle, her comment reminded me of Barbara and our time together. I remembered the way she would speak to me in two different manners, one way she would speak to me in a very professional manner when she tried to get me to speak about my life and my past in order to guide me into a path of healing. The other way, she would speak to me like a starving woman waiting to be guided and controlled.

Each time we got together, I would push her limits, I would guide her and force her to not look at me at times when I would prepare her before I would penetrate her. Other times I would take an enormous amount of time caressing her body and raising her arousal to levels where by the time my cock entered her the first of many orgasms would begin to take hold. Other times, I would simply toss her against the couch, bend her over, and take her like an animal with little regard to her feelings. Her betrayal hurt in a very different way than Ann's had hurt me, it was like being burned with fire and then with ice.

As I continued driving, I saw a vehicle on the side of the road as three men struggled to place the tire so that they could continue their own journey, by this point the rain was falling harder and the wind was picking up with strength. This reminded me of Rebecca and Martha who came into my life and with tender and loving hands put me back together as well as I could be by this moment in life. With no agenda, they mended my physical and emotional wounds, built me up and made me a part of their lives, their selfless defense of my own mind and sanity when I was at my weakest made me realize just how lost I had become.

Walking away from Christina hurt a little less with each mile, maybe I was becoming as hardened as I had hoped to never become. My thoughts had kept me entertained and distracted long enough that a few hours had passed and I was nearing my destination. I dialed my father's phone as I pulled into their house, waiting for the gate to be unlocked. As the door opened I drove toward the back room, the keys were unnecessary at this point, but when I walked in they were resting in the dining room table along with a note from my father telling me to meet them for breakfast in the morning. Grabbing the blankets that had been left there, I made my way to the bedroom, trying my damnest to not hear the echoes of Ann's screams on the walls. It was a losing battle, but even with a burdened mind I managed to fall into the oblivion of sleep.

"Good morning," my mother said as I walked into the house, she had prepared a spread, clearly she had something on her mind that she wanted to discuss.

"Son," my father said as he hugged me, my father had never been an affectionate man in my youth so this type of act was still a little unnerving, "it's good to see you."

"What do I need to do?" I reached for the empty mug and filled it with coffee as I joined my father in the dinner table.

"Honestly," he replied, "there isn't much you can do at this point. He's being transferred sometime this week, we haven't learned to where yet," he took a sip from his coffee, "I really don't know why you are here."

"Because he needs to know what his brother is going through," my mother said, "he is part of this family."

"The last time I listened to you," I replied, "I remember we sat in this very table and you meddled in my life. Because you were my mother, I listened to you, and I blindly ignored my instincts and went ahead with your plan." I took a drink from my own mug as my father looked at me, "what did listening to you get me?"

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just thought..."

"No," I interrupted, "if you had thought about me for a second, for one tiny fraction of a second, you never would've done such a good job at convincing me to take up that whore as a wife. It would've saved me a whole lot of heartache. But all you thought about, like always, is about what you want, mother. So, why am I here?"

"You need to help your brother," she replied, "he's your blood."

"Just how am I going to help him? Better yet, why would I want to? I have been gone for years; tell me, how many times did I call you asking for anything?" I looked at both of my parents, my mother had the decency to lower her head.

"You should at least go and see him," my father replied, "he has been torturing himself for what he did to you. All he needs is your forgiveness."

"So you're telling me that I should lie to him?" I looked at my father, this was the first time he had ever asked me to do anything, "and I should look him in the eye and tell him that I forgive him when I truly will never do?"

"Yes," my father replied, "we all know he's not going to make it out of there alive. Let him go in there carrying one less burden. You've always been the stronger of all my sons, I know that you will do what is right at the end of the day. But if this is something you can't do, no one would blame you." He looked at my mother as he repeated himself, "no one."

"When are visiting hours?" I took a plate and began filing it with the food, "and I'll need your truck."

"That's fine," my father said, "I'll go with you, I need to see him as well."

"They only allow two visitors at a time," my mother replied.

"You're staying here," my father replied, "this is our business, you have nothing to do with it." My mother walked out of the kitchen with clear annoyance and anger, my father had never spoken to her in that manner in front of me.

"That was a first," I replied, "what's going on with you two?"

"We'll talk about that later, son. Enjoy your breakfast, tell me what you have been up to these past years. You have aged a lot, that much is clear." I gave him a brief history of what had happened in the past years, avoiding specifics but trying my best to convey the message of all I had lived through. "That's quite a story," he said as we moved outside the house, "I knew you were always too stubborn to die. Glad you're here, son."

"Thanks, pops," I replied, "I know you really mean it. So what's really going on here?"

"If I were to tell you I know how you feel about Ann," he took a long drag from his cigarette, "I would be telling you the truth, son. But if you were to tell me that you knew how I felt, I would be forced to call you a liar."

"What are you talking about?"

"When Ann left," he started, "I wondered why your mother was going to such lengths to defend her, to try to get you two to stay together. When Ann finally told her she was pregnant with someone else's child, your mother did not even bat an eye at that." My father looked me in the eyes, for the first time in my whole life I saw what so many people said when they looked in my own eyes. I saw the emptiness behind those brown shades, the stare that goes beyond comprehension. Eyes that have seen too much and are too weary to cry anymore.

"When?" I grabbed a second cigarette, offering him one of mine which he took.

"I found out when Ann left," he said, "your oldest brother is not my son. I raised someone else's child as my own," he said, "I watched him take his first steps, heard his first words, held his hand the first time he was sick, stayed up at night on his first date. I celebrated his achievements and wept with him for his failures, and he wasn't even mine."

"I'm sorry pops," was all I could say.

"I almost killed your mother," he said, "it took every ounce of strength to not strike her down like a dog. To not put her down, to not beat her to within an inch of her life. But what would have been the point? The damage was done, at that moment every little bit of love I had for her died. In that instant, I always thought that would be impossible, regardless of all her shortcomings, I loved your mother, son. Now, I can barely stomach being around her in the same house."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do, son," he looked me in the eyes, "I'm too old to start over. The least painful and most economically sound solution is just to go along as we have been, but there is no love there anymore. Part of the reason why I am going with you is to let your brother know," he took a drag from his cigarette before continuing, "if it gets out, I would become the laughing stock of the family."

"Do you know who the other one is?"

"Yes," he said, "but I am keeping that to myself. He is still your brother, and as much as I would like to think otherwise he is still my son. I raised him, he carries my name." Again he looked at me with a terrible sadness that threatened to swallow me, "looks like we can't pick a good woman."

"I'm starting to think the same thing, pops," I put my hand on his shoulder, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry about this shit."

"It's not your fault," he replied, "I guess it happens."

"Yeah," I replied, "it happens. Let me take a shower, we'll head out as soon as I'm done." That was the longest shower I had ever taken, part of me knew that this would be a completely appropriate time to weep like a baby, to let go of those emotions in a conventional way. But even if I had tried to, I doubt anything would have come out of my eyes. I understood how my father felt, and I admired his resilience and stubbornness, he had done what I could not have done.

As we drove away from the house, I could see my mother weeping as she looked at us from her window, both of us steeled ourselves from the theatre play she was giving us. She might be remorseful, but the long history of manipulation made it impossible for me to believe her, I suspected that my father held similar thoughts. Within a few minutes we pulled into the small Annex that housed the inmates before they would be shipped out to their final destination, my father and I walked in together. Once we were done checking in with the guards they led us to a small room with a glass dividing the visitor and prisoner sections of the jail. The only way to communicate with each other was through a small phone attached to the wall, I let my father go in first just as one of the guards approached me.

"D," he said, we made eye contact and it took me a minute to recognize him.

"Officer Sandoval," I replied extending my hand, "the years have been kind to you, sir."

"And they've been the opposite with you, son," he said as he shook my hand. I had met him during my short stay in one of the many detention centers during my troubled youth, I had saved him from a stabbing by one of my biggest rivals in the detention center. The boy had decided that he would attack the officer while we were being escorted to the showers.

As he lunged and tackled the officer, I immediately grabbed in in a rear naked choke while I delivered blows to his face. The officer followed protocol, moved away from the action while backup arrived, it would have taken less than 30 seconds, but in that time I was able to deliver a large amount of punishment to the boy's face. In 30 seconds I was able to break the boy's nose, dislocate his jaw, break both orbitals, and made him permanently blind from one eye. He was transferred to another facility where a few weeks later he was found stabbed in the stomach multiple times. He had tried to pick a fight with the wrong people.

aka_Mike
aka_Mike
501 Followers
12