Dishonorably Discharged
Copyright 2013 Desean Rambo
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Also by Desean Rambo:
All’s Fair in Love and Football Series
Migraine
Think Like a Hustler
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SMACK.
That’s the sound your skull makes when it bounces off a two hundred pound refrigerator. I was in a fight for my life. I had no idea how we got here.
“Get out of my face!” Justin blurted at me as he swung his arms wildly in my direction. I tried my best to take cover behind my arms but there is only so much a woman can do in a fight with a 6’4”, 230 lb. Marine.
“Stop it!” I screamed. The pitch of my voice pierced through the apartment to no avail. I was getting beat to death by my newlywed husband.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a bitch to deal with. It’s even worse when you are on the receiving ends of the blows. I had no idea what triggered Justin but I was feeling the full force of his rage. The usually stoic, mild-mannered, blue eyed, nice guy was now doing his best to try to take my life. I had to get out of here.
I fought. I fought and I fought some more. I scratched his eyes, grabbed his throat, and even kicked him in the groin. I tried anything to get some distance between me and my attempted murderer husband. I prayed a neighbor would hear me cry. I prayed he’d snap out of it. It felt like nothing was working.
Eventually a passerby heard the commotion seeping from our walls and called the police. In an instant, three years of marriage was down the drain.
The officers pleaded with me to press charges but I couldn’t do it. There was something in my heart that still loved Justin. That something forgave him. He was not this way due to choice. The military is a complicated profession. Though I knew the stories, there was nothing I could do to make me fully understand what the reality of combat is like. That was, until that night.
Justin tried to get me back. He did. Several times. I wanted to stand strong but no matter what, it seemed fruitless. He had a way of being able to make you forgive him. My mother warned me several times, yet it happened anyway.
It started on Facebook. Every few days, he’d tend to my inbox like a plant he was watering. Each message was more and more contrite.
MESSAGE 1:
Hey Kaitlyn.
I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to do anything to you that would hurt you. I wish there was something I could do to make it right. If I could take it back, I would. I’m sorry, I need you.
-Justin
MESSAGE 2:
Hey Kaitlyn,
I know you’re not going to respond to this but please believe me. I am truly SORRY. You are the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. I cannot say sorry enough. If you never talk to me again in life I understand, but PLEASE find it in your heart to forgive me. I love you.
-Justin
MESSAGE 3:
Kaitlyn.
Don’t be mad at me. Again, I’M SORRY.
I think about you every single day. I really don’t know what to do. Like I said, if there was anything I could do to go back in time and take it back, I would. I am truly sorry for my actions and I just want to let you know that no matter what happens, I will not stop loving you.
If you find it in your heart to forgive me as your husband then please give me one more chance. Just one more chance. I will never do anything to hurt you again.
-Justin
As much as my instincts told me to stay far away from the man who almost killed me, I just could not do it. At the end of the day, he was still my husband and we took vows, vows that included “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.” As far as I was concerned, Justin was sick and it was not his fault. Somewhere deep inside the gregarious, personable, humorous, fun guy I loved was still there. I had to see if I could rescue him. I felt that I owed him a second chance.
After approximately 90 days of silence, I finally responded:
Justin,
I want what happened between us never to happen again. You are still my husband. I know you did not mean your actions on that night. I will give you one last chance to prove to me you have changed. One chance and once chance only.
-Kate
We agreed to meet for dinner and drinks at a bar and grill. So many thoughts raced through my mind. I had no idea what he had been up to since the arrest. Where was he working? Was he discharged? If we get back together, how are we going to make a living? Wait, where was he living? Did he move back in with his folks? Was he living in town? Was he in the barracks?
My mind spun a thousand miles an hour as I drove to the spot. Cautious, I circled the restaurant to make sure he was inside before I got out. I wasn’t taking any chances of being kidnapped in the parking lot. The more people there were around, the better.
There he sat alone, sipping on a glass of water with lemon, a man broken. It hurt to see him like this but it was the way things had to be. The five o’clock shadow along his jaw line matched the new bags underneath his eyes. Justin hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks. It broke my heart to see my husband in this condition.