Her Delayed War

by R. J. Nicolson

  “You were?” I nod and hang my head in my hands because his eyes are scrutinising me like he doesn’t believe me at all.

  “I wasn’t as bad.” I try to explain, but honestly I don’t understand it myself so why would others.

  “You talk to people?”

  “My therapist. Do you?”

  “Gone the therapist route but it didn’t help me much I now run group meetings as it helps me more, I’m not going to say it isn’t hard at times but I will say that we are not alone, so we figure it out very slowly together.”

  I remember Jenson. He was always so put together; I’d never have pictured him suffering the hell I suffer daily.

  “How long?”

  “What do you mean how long?”

  “How long since you knew?”

  “Oh, about six months after you all left. I stayed in, did you know? Then I had to leave. No choice really. I couldn’t sleep, barely ate and couldn’t sit still. The pinnacle was when I couldn’t contain it anymore and tried to do myself in. So I was medically discharged to the care of an awesome mental hospital.” Oh my god.

  “You seem so normal. Well I could tell you were suffering but you know what I mean.” He raises his eyebrows when my eye’s shoot towards the exit again.

  “You do that a lot.”

  “What?”

  “Watch the door like you need to leave.” I just shrug and check the door again. “It’s ok, you can go and I’m leaving soon also. Just came to check it out. Kind of glad I did now.” He winks at me.

  “Here Jodi take this, if you want me then give me a call.” I grab his card, stuff it in my bag and then stand up look and around before I decide to leg it. I hate that I’m reduced to this after all the excitement I felt about this reunion. On trembling legs, I jump into the closest taxi and get him to high tail it home.

  November 2003

  Waking, we are given an order to clear the surrounding area but all I can think about is the land mines, which if activated can blow you away. We have dogs but as with all human losses you don’t want to risk their lives either. We all signed up for this but honestly I feel like a little part of my soul has left me with every patrol or loss our whole army has under gone. A couple of my men are the only saving grace we have. Jenson and Sutherland will do anything you ask them to and if you don’t ask, they volunteer. They are always at pinnacle points in an operation. It isn’t vanity, I’m sure of it and in different situations I’d use their feelings to my advantage. But for all Jenson smiles at me like I rule his world, there’s no way I can take it as anything but gratitude.

  Chapter 4

  I don’t know what happened to my weekend, I think I must have slept it away in my state of ugly anxiety and terror. Monday has rolled around faster than I wanted it to. I don’t want to get out of bed even after almost two whole days in bed; I definitely don’t want to go to work. Dressing and grabbing my stuff, it’s time to go. I check the peep hole before I leave the house; all is quiet so I walk out and walk extra quick, that is until I see him walking towards me and I freeze. Mohammad is walking my way with his Tabuk sniper rifle aimed straight at my head. Turning, I run for the door hauling myself in and I slam it behind me.

  My head is playing games with me, it has to be. No way would someone just randomly be strolling down the street with that sort of weapon. I lift the little gold latch that covers the peephole and look out. One eye closed as if peering through the sights on my very own assault rifle I scan as much of the street as I can. Breathing heavy, I ready myself with the shake of a head to open the door.

  There was no one there. There was no one there. I chant to myself, hoping to ingrain it into my head.

  Pulling the door open as slowly as possible I peek out and then slam it shut again. I can’t do it. I can’t physically will myself to leave. I slide down the door with my head between my knees, my breathing erratic and sweat dripping from my whole body.

  I don’t know how long I’ve sat on the floor by the door but the ringing of my phone shocks me back to the here and now. Scrabbling through my bag at my side I pull it out and hit connect.

  “Baby girl, where are you? Work called me saying you hadn’t turned up there.” My mum cries in my ear.

  Silence. I don’t have anything to say. I don’t know what to say.

  “Jodi, are you ok?”

  Silence.

  “Right, I’m coming over there.”

  “No mum, don’t. I’m ok. Just feeling a little poorly, please don’t worry. Can you ring work and tell them I’m not feeling well but will be back as soon as I’m better.” If I can hear the fear in my voice, she has to hear it also.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over there, baby girl?” I can’t let her come here. Maybe I didn’t see him when I looked out the peephole but he could be here and he could hurt my mum. I can’t let her go through that. Hell, I can’t go through that.

  “No, just stay there. I’m ok, I promise.” My body shakes with the anxiety creeping over me.

  “Ok baby, if you want to come and stay here for a few days then let me know, dad and I will come get you. Maybe you just need a hug and a few days’ rest. Sometime with us might help.”

  “I’ll think about it mum.” I say before hanging up and climbing up onto unsteady feet.

  I lift the catch and peer out of the peephole again. Shit he’s there again, weapon trained onto the peephole; it’s like I’m looking up the barrel. He stands at the end of the garden path, if I hadn’t just seen him the other night I wouldn’t have known who it was. I debate taking my mum up on her offer of staying there but how do I get out without him shooting me or get them in here without him shooting them. No, definitely not happening.

  I move away from the door then run back silently to peer out again. He isn’t there which means he must be hiding or he has two lookouts.

  I run to the bathroom as vomit erupts from my body.

  My nerves are ruined. My body shakes to the point of collapse and I pull myself through to my bedroom, curl up under the duvet and resign myself to the fact that I’m never going to be able to leave my house again.

  I must have slept because the ringing of my doorbell pulls me from sleep. Remembering everything all over again sets my body in a whirlwind of shaking and sweating. Why would he be knocking on my door? Why would anyone be knocking on my door? I know for sure that if I had seen someone standing outside someone’s house with any type of gun, it would have me running screaming in the opposite direction. The doorbell sounds again, as well as someone’s fist pounding but it makes no difference to me I won’t go and answer. He’s persistent I can tell you; that five minute’s pass before all is quiet again.

  I wait it out, watching the hands on my bedside clock tick around until I’m sure it’s safe and then I untangle myself from the sheets. Sticking to the walls, I make my way out of my room and to the front door. Breathing in as deep a breath as I possibly can, I lift the gold catch again and breathe out a sigh of relief. He’s still not there and I hope he has given up. I head back in and pull Jenson’s card from my bag, debating the next move I make.

  Thinking better of it I pull out a bottle of wine and pour myself a large glass, then head to my bathroom to try release some of the terror I’d felt from myself.

  The bath doesn’t help because every noise scares the living daylights out of me. When the heating clicks on, I jump out of my skin thinking someone is in my house, the anxiety grips me. There’s no escaping the hell I’m living in. When I wrap the towel around myself I catch a glimpse out of the window and even though it’s frosted, I see the figure of someone and duck for cover. Surely not.

  I run to my bedroom and pull the phone, dialling the only people I think can help me.

  “999, what’s your emergency?”

  “Police please.”

  “Hello ma’am, you’re through to Northumbria police. Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

  “There’s a man standing at the end of my path pointin
g a gun at my door.”

  “Are you sure? There have been no reports of anyone today.”

  “Ye-ye-yes I’m su-su-re. He has been here since I tried to leave for work this morning; I’m too scared to leave my house. Someone has to help me.” I say barely above a whisper.

  “I will send someone around straight away. Please stay inside with your doors locked. Stay away from windows also. The officers won’t be much longer.” She stays on the line asking questions about who is outside. Do I know him? What he’s wearing? How long he has been there? I answer each question until I hear the sirens.

  “They are here; I can hear the sirens now.”

  “Ok ma’am, stay where you are until the officers knock on the door; they will let you know it’s them.”

  “Miss Emery. Can you open the door please, it’s the police.” I spy through the peephole before I hang up the phone and slowly open the door to allow them in.

  The officers walk into my living room and sit while I lock the door securely, checking the little gold latch again. Sitting across from them, I knead my fingers together over and over.

  “Can you give us an account of what happened? We have people looking into the CCTV focused on your area.” One of the officers say’s, while the other opens his notepad.

  “Do you mind if I take a look around your property inside and out?” He asks while I tell the officer with the notepad everything I can think of. I just nod my head while he walks out.

  “Do you know this man? Has this ever happened before?” His radio goes off while he’s sitting there but I miss exactly what’s being said.

  His eyes slip to mine as he assesses me, not even really waiting for my reply. The other officer re-enters looks at the first and nods his head.

  “Miss Emery we have checked the surrounding area but can’t find any trace of this man. We have rung in a report to all officers on duty to keep a look out but it seems we have scared him off.” The officers look at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

  “Thank you for your help officers,” is all I say as I show them out, bolting the door behind them. From what I saw they did nothing and spying on them from the peephole of the door all they did was get into their car and drive away. They didn’t even look around the outside of my home again or let me answer any real questions.

  I lowered the gold catch when they drove away but opened it again because my instincts told me to recheck. He’s there, he hasn’t left. His rifle aimed at my door once again. Fear makes me want to scream. But knowing that he can hear me has my hand clamped over my mouth.

  I chain the door and pick up the phone.

  “999, what’s your emergency?”

  “Police please.” I say my voice shaking.

  “Hello, this is Northumbria police, what’s your emergency?”

  “I have just had police out because there was a man outside my house with a gun aimed at my door. They need to come back, he’s still here. Please send someone quick.”

  My hands are shaking so bad that I drop the phone and miss what she’s saying to me. Picking up the tail end,

  “……and you are sure someone is there? Our officers have reported back saying that it was a misunderstanding and no one was on the street.”

  “Do you really think someone would make this shit up? He’s going to kill me.”

  “Ma’am, do you know who it might be? I can send officer’s back to your property now. I can also look into who you think is doing this to you.”

  “His name is Mohammad I think; I met him at our Army reunion three nights ago. He’s in some sort of relationship with a lady called Cathy Rice.” My voice lowers as I say the name in case he’s right outside my house listening to me.

  “Ok ma’am, officers are on their way to your property. Now please keep your doors locked until they make themselves known.”

  “Thank you.” I say, as she hangs up.

  I creep towards the door, lift the gold latch and spy out; he still stands their gun aimed at me. This time he sports a smug grin, like he knows something I don’t; like he can see me through the wood of the door. I sink to the floor with back against the door and bury my face in my hands.

  The banging on the door jerks me from my sleep. Shit! I fell asleep on the floor behind my front door. Pulling myself up, I ache all over and my whole body is sore. I take a peek out like some sort of ritual has taken over me, then slowly open the door.

  “Hello again, Miss Emery. We hear you reported that you had seen someone outside again. The man you are claiming to have seen, Mohammad Awad has been working and at home since the night of your reunion. And when we arrived here, there was no one outside again. I don’t like to do this but we could arrest you under section 5 for wasting police time. Now if there is anything else our shift is ending and real crimes are being committed as we speak.”

  Flabbergasted at his words and actions, I slam the door and sink back to the floor. They don’t believe me; no one will believe me. I’m done; there is literally no one else who can help me out of this horrendous situation that I’ve found myself in.

  Chapter 5

  Cory Jenson

  I thought she would have rung me. I could see she was breaking, I remember when I was at my lowest point thinking no one had ever believed anything I’d said. No one wanted to hear what was going on in my head. Therapists couldn’t deal with the shit I was going through and dealing with everything alone was far too much for me to handle.

  When Corporal Emery walked into the reunion, you could see the fear and anxiety pouring off her in waves. My first instinct was to rib her about it. Something in my defence mechanism tells me to just take the piss out of the situation; it’s easier to handle for me when I know someone else is suffering. I mean I know that sounds terrible but I’m human and we are but mere mortals.

  I’ve never pretended to be more than I am. Even when we all served together I was me; the stable serious man who people came to for advice. I’m now the tortured soul who tried to kill himself because I couldn’t face the turmoil and life I’d actually led.

  She was shaking when she was sitting between all the people at the table and when Cathy’s man tried to shake her hand I could see the panic roll over her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her beautiful brown hair. It’s like the whole place pulsed with the effects of her emotions, not that anyone else was aware but those emotions sang a song I’d heard many times before.

  I’d tried the route she was taking one therapist which was fine but I couldn’t settle into it, sheesh when you’re in a mental facility there is either group or one on one. I survived a year with Dr Max Fisher before he kicked my ass to group therapy. How he had put up with me for all that time I have no clue. If given the chance, I’d try and end it. If he was late to a meeting, I’d have found something in his office to help me harm myself. The power behind being able to do it was immense; a knick here, a cut there was like an outlet. But you never really lose the feeling until you release the source.

  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is the name commonly given to people like me but it’s not only people who leave the army who suffer it, I’m grateful I have mine in check as such right now. Jodi has in no way shape or form got whatever hers is anywhere near even marginally controlled. When she said she had been fine for years and that even a year ago she was somewhat normal, I was blown away. I’d never heard about delayed P.T.S.D at this length and I’d researched it. Jesus, I’d more than researched it; I’d spent just over three years suffering and then three years helping others manage theirs. I knew my stuff.

  As soon as I’d arrived home, I’d started up my laptop and Googled what I’d thought she was suffering and I was blown away with the information that was out there. Who knew that it could happen? It’s been seven years and she’s probably suffered this whole time but not realised. Delayed PTSD; I’d never even thought about it until now, not one of the many in my group have her type but I sure as hell will be there for her if she will let me.

 
; Group therapy sessions are open to all sufferers and in my Monday group there are eight men and six woman and they all suffer from some type of PTSD. There are no real fixes and no one is ever healed we all just find different ways to cope; different ways to manage what’s going on inside our head. There used to be twenty of us but over the last two years I’ve lost a few of them. When I say lost, I mean lost. Some people just don’t come back from this kind of suffering. We all wear our invisible scars differently.

  It’s not like you would think either, we don’t sit around in a circle talking about what happened; it’s pretty much like going to a pub, we all just chill and if someone wants to speak they can. There’s pool, darts and plenty coffee or tea. No alcohol is allowed on the premises, not because it’s a rule but because I don’t think it helps when people are already suffering.

  I’d hoped Corporal Emery would have reached out by now, not only because I wanted to help her but because I hated to think she was going this alone. Remembering her in our time in Iraq, she had been quite the loner, lots of friends don’t get me wrong but she was there for them more than they were for her. I suppose it was her job being our Corp and all, but who does she have now.

  I wish I’d have grabbed her number instead of just giving her mine; I honestly didn’t think about it. I didn’t even hang about after she made her escape. I don’t mix well in big social environments unless it’s my group.

  The main door opens half way and my heart beats faster until my eyes land on the older man walking through; I don’t know why I thought it would be her but I did. I hadn’t even told her much about the meetings but I wish I had now. I know she needs to be here even if some of my intentions aren’t honourable. I’d always felt she was made for me and time hadn’t changed that.

  Chapter 6

  Jodi