Back In The Enemy's Bed

Though he was usually pretty good at hiding his emotions, and burying the anguish, Gracie’s pained look said that after all these years, she could read him just as well as he’d read her.

For several seconds she was quiet, her eyes locked on his, then asked softly, “What was it like?”

The question threw him for a second. Aside from group therapy, and private sessions with his therapist, Roman had never spoken of his experience as a POW. Not even with his sister. No one ever asked. The physical scars pretty much spoke for themselves.

But despite their rocky past, he knew Gracie would never judge, or question his fortitude or bravery. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just did, that despite everything that had happened between them, she genuinely cared.

So he talked.

Four (#ulink_d074afb0-8989-558d-9643-e9fc40132795)

“The first few months after my rescue were almost unbearable,” Roman told her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the men who didn’t make it out alive. The ones who were killed in front of me, in cold blood. The survivor guilt was worse than the actual torture. I would have given my life for any one of those men. The scars will never go away, but I’ve made peace with myself. It wasn’t easy, though.”

She gazed over at him, her eyes filled with pain and regret. “I used to feel as though, because of everything that happened between us, if it hadn’t been for me, you would have never joined the military in the first place. Like, maybe if I wasn’t so hard on you...if I could have forgiven you...” She shrugged. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, I know.”