Midnight

The last month and a half had been going relatively well. I had a simple routine established. I was able to fill my days without thinking too much, not about the past or the future, just the moment at hand. I rediscovered my library and pulled out books I hadn’t read in years. As long as I was reading and filling my brain with fact and fiction, I didn’t have to think or remember. My rehab sessions were also a welcomed escape. During those few hours with Bling, I could focus on the physical work to the exclusion of everything else. The rain helped me through the long nights with its comforting rhythm and monotonous patter. I could get lost in it for hours, listening to its numbing beats. I didn’t even do much writing. There was nothing to think about, so there was nothing to write about. I had built a safe, insulated world for myself. But now everything has fallen apart.

"Great system you got there. Whadaya use it for?" With that simple question three weeks ago, Bling began to dismantle my carefully constructed walls.

"Research mostly," I answered. Yeah right! Every journalist requires hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of computer equipment to do his research.

I hated him from bringing the subject up. I was doing just fine not thinking about computers or informant nets or Eyes Only or Peter or Lauren. I hadn’t been in the computer room since I came home from the hospital. I hadn’t even looked in that direction. I had somehow managed to shut the door on those thoughts. But then the memories and the feelings began creeping back.

So I attempted to refocus. I read more and longer and I worked harder at rehab. I invested all my energy into it and for a while, it appeared to work. My sessions with Bling were going extremely well. We increased our training time to three hours each day. I was astounded by the progress I was making. Everyday, my body would surprise me by doing something completely unexpected. I couldn’t believe the strength I was gaining. A month ago, I could barely do a single situp, even with Bling’s support. Then one day, I was able to complete one by myself. The next day, I did five and the week after that, I did twenty. I made similar progress with the weight training. The weights we started with were extremely light, but since then, we’ve doubled and tripled them, and they’re still not enough to challenge me. I was even able to retire my old friend, the slide board. The chair transfers that used to be so excruciating have become a breeze. Bling was not surprised. He said my body was returning to the fitness level I enjoyed before my injury. "Muscle memory," he called it. Whatever it was, I was living for our sessions, for the opportunity to make some progress, for the feeling of accomplishment. Our workouts were the one time I could completely forget about everything else in my life. They were my reprieve.

Two days ago, the reprieve ended. Bling was using the computer again and came out to ask me a few questions about the system. I had given him access to it the first time he asked me about it and he’s used it regularly since then. He might as well because I have no use for it. I was surprised at Bling’s knowledge of computer systems. He knew much more than I originally thought. I asked him where he acquired his skills and he told me he had worked some security in the past, but he preferred whipping guys like me into shape. I laughed at that.

"You can tell me, Logan, get it off you chest." Bling caught me completely off guard with his remark.

"I was also doing some security work, but my last job went sideways." I tried to be calm as I told him, but my barriers were down and the emotions flooded over me.

"Your Doc told me you had been shot when I came on board, but he didn’t go into the circumstances. It had to do with this last job, didn’t it?" Bling was looking at me with concern.

"Yeah," I answered him, hoping that he wouldn’t ask me any more questions. I wished he wouldn’t talk about this.

"I have a lot of respect for you, man. It takes a lot of courage to take another’s safety into your hands. Sometimes things don’t go the way we want, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth doing." He was trying to tell me it was okay, but nothing will ever be okay again. How could he respect me? He doesn’t know what I have done. He doesn’t know about the blood on my hands. He doesn’t know the price others have had to pay for my mistakes. How could he say it was worth it?

I wish I hadn’t talked to him. It has brought me right back into that nightmare again, right back to the shooting, watching people die all around me. I thought I had buried those memories. I thought I had built a wall around them. I thought I wouldn’t have to experience that nightmare again. But my wall has cracked. The nightmare is back in full force. I can’t turn it off. I can’t disengage. I can’t seem to bury the memories and the feelings any longer.

Bling keeps pushing me, trying to get me to talk, trying to get me to go outside, trying to get me to answer the calls that are still coming in. He keeps trying to drag me out of myself. Every day, it’s the same thing.

"Logan, I’m going to the market. Do you want to come along?"

"Logan, I’m heading out on an errand. Do you want to join me?"

"Logan, Detective Sung called again. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? He’s been calling every day. He would love to talk to you."

"Logan, your cousin, Bennett, called. He’s getting engaged. He wanted to tell you personally, but asked me to pass on the message."

‘Logan, Dr. Shankar called. She wants to know if there is anything she can do for you. She’s been calling every week."

"Logan, there’s a basketball game on the set. Do you want to watch?"

"Logan, who do you think will win the world championship this year? Kyoto or the Lakers?"

Bling keeps trying to engage me, to get me talking about something, anything. Doesn’t he know it’s impossible? If I relax for a moment, the feelings will overwhelm me. It’s all I can do to keep them under control.

Things have deteriorated rapidly in the last two days. I can’t stem the flood of fury and self-hatred that is pouring out of me. I can’t even get lost in my workouts anymore. The harder I work, the angrier I feel. I keep pulling and pushing at the weights, but they don’t help me. They don’t take the feelings away. Bling keeps telling me to slow down, to pace myself, but that is incomprehensible to me now. I haven’t been able to slow down. Bling was so frustrated with me today he took the weights right out of my hands. Then he had the gall to suggest we work on relaxation. Relaxation! What will that do? It won’t release the pressure inside me. I told Bling as much and left him in the training room.

I wheeled myself over to the windows and waited for the rain to start. I’ve been sitting here for hours. I will be spending the night here. I know I won’t sleep. I’ve got my notebook out and I’m trying to write something down, but I doubt it will make a difference. Everything is an incomprehensible mess. I just hope I can find a few moments of numbness as I watch the rain.

Bling is here beside me, waiting. He hasn’t said a word. He’s waiting for me to open up, to tell him what’s going on. He thinks he can help me. He thinks that if I talk to him, things will get better. I wish I could talk to him. But I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, if I acknowledge these feelings, they will just become more intense. I am afraid I won’t be able to control them. I wish I could release some of this load I’ve been carrying. It’s crushing me. I can’t hold onto it any longer.