The Soldier Next Door

The silence has suffocated the room; you can hear a pin drop. The anticipation that I am about to lose my restraint is a possibility that lies high in the tense air of the room.

I have yet not even listened to what Ana has to say, but the mere fact that the man was in my house is enough to set my blood aflame.

Does this woman not understand the concept of a boundary, the whole idea of not letting people into our home that is not welcome here? How am I supposed to trust her when I get deployed?

God knows I love her, but sometimes she drives me insane. Can she not think? Can she simply not put together what is right and what is wrong?Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

So as she still tries to speak for what I think I do not want to hear, I make my way to our room before I completely blow up. The raging anger that is suffocating every corner of my body lets loose like a beast. As far as my feet take me, every single object that finds itself in my path shatters in pure brute force against the wall. The chair finds its way through the room. There is glass shattering into fragments of nothing. I ram my fist with a hatred so raw in the mirror, hundreds of pieces cutting at the skin of my hand.

I lay complete destruction to everything that is and was a part of her until I can say that for now, for this minute, I shall be rid of any thought. And when it returns into the passages of my memories, I shall do it again and again until every trace of it has been taken from my life. I am angry; I am furious. But this thought only but exists for a few moments, and her very words find their way back into the very place I do not want it to be, it is in my head, and I want it out.

And out is what I want her to be…out of sight, yet she is not leaving me alone.

“Soldier, please just listen to me.”

With trying my hardest, I try not to snap, “Ana, I am not arguing. I am so done over arguing with you. Can we not just be happy?” I pause for a brief moment, then I ask the question, “What else have you not told me? Why was this man at our house?”

“He came to warn me against Mark.”

“Bullshit! He told me that he wanted you back.”

“I…well,” she hesitates for a brief few moments. “I did date him before I married Mark.”

I take one deep breath and try not to snap at her again, “You are not telling me something. Don’t fucking lie to me. I just shot a goddamn man for you.”

With that, I go quiet, waiting for her to say a thing, then as she starts again, “I am not married to Mark.”

“Yes, that I know Ana.”

“No, Ethan. I was never married to Mark.”

Counting back from three…two…one… one more deep breath again, “Who the fuck were you married to then?”

“Brendan…I was always married to Brendan.”

“You. Were. Fucking. What?” As I try to find my voice again, there is nothing but anger that fills every part of my being. “Please explain this to me.”

“They thought that it would be funny to swop grooms at the wedding.” She pauses for a brief while between short, stuttered breaths, “You see how much they look like each other.”

“Come on! Ana! How can you not know your own fucking husband? Stop telling me goddamn shit.”

Then she finally gives in, “Fine, I married Brendan as from the start, but then he left, and then Mark stepped in.”

“Oh my god, this is fucking sick! Is this from some goddamn hill billy movie? Why?”

“Because I was pregnant with Brendan’s child, and Mark promised to be the father.”

“But then you lied to me!” The last of my control steps out the door as I watch her crumble in front of me. “Who are you really? I have no idea who my wife is.” Then just for a short while, I give in and gently touch her hand, but the sooner I pull it away, “What is it that you were saying about what he thinks?”

“He…”

With that, there is a knock at the front door. I can honestly say the person on the other side is going to wish that they did not just come to disturb me. My marriage is not even a full two days old, and I am already finding out that my wife is not whom she said that she is supposed to be, and then to make it even worse, she wants to keep on telling me a lie upon a lie here.

Well, fuck this.

So as I go to open that door, I am hoping to find another version of Mark or even perhaps Paul there. God, there might even be a fourth brother that I do not know of. Perhaps this is actually the father of her baby. She seems to have gotten around in the Jenkins family.

Ya, I am being a dick.

But putting that aside for the door is not banging. So with nothing but a growl, I swing it open, “What?”

And so it is with that I stare what I knew my fate would be the moment I set my foot in the home of Brendan. I perhaps thought that there would be a side of me that could get away, that could have done what I did and not suffer the consequences. Or perhaps, I just should not have done it in the first place. But ya, shoulda woulda coulda…not going to help me now.

“Ethan Hunter,” his voice comes through firm, “You need to come with us.”

From behind me, I hear Ana shout in horror as they slam a pair of cuffs on my wrist. As I glance over my shoulder at the woman that will keep on being my downfall, I have nothing but pain in my eyes, yet I am pleading.

Just as they are about to whisk me out the door, she comes rushing towards us, “I will get you out, soldier.”

“Ya, Ana, you got me into this. Don’t worry; I am a big boy; I can find my feet around this one.”

Ya, I am being a dick.

With that, they lead me to the car; it is with each hesitating step that I take that I know that I am headed straight to my doom. I have, by all honesty, just messed up my career as a Marine. Why the fuck did I go into this man’s house and shot him? I don’t know what I was thinking, but from where I am now sitting in the back of this cruiser, I know that what I was thinking was a whole lot of shit.

So taking the drive to the station, it is hard to keep my head held up high when men that look up to you see you being driving like a criminal, a mad man, a man that has lost all control. There is a fine line between protecting the woman you love and becoming a monster with a gun. And I…I became that monster; I was not protecting anyone but my own ego when I put a bullet into a man that really did not do any wrong.

And with that, we finally pull into the station, there is an odd face here and there that recognizes me, yet their embarrassment is even far great than my own that they do not even bother to greet me. Why would they? I have gone from the normal to the brink of insanity.

Stepping inside the station, they disarm me from the very gun that I used to shoot fucking Brendan. After stripping me down to nothing but my slacks and a shirt, they take my fingerprints that will now sit in the criminal side of Pendleton. What a fucking shameful day this is for the great Ethan Hunter. Leaving the interviews for later, they lead me to the cells.

As I step down the stairs into the dark hole that shall be my home for the next few days, the first thing that overpowers me is the suffocating coldness that fills the air. The walls are covered in green algae from the constant rain that comes spilling in from the outside. The floor is but only covered in mud; you shall not find a bed or even a chair to sit on. There is no living thing that makes its way through here, not even a rat. And as for the smell, the only thing you shall smell is your own fear.

This is by far the worst place you shall ever find yourself in. Now the question begs, am I going to survive in here?