I focused on where I was. I was in an isosceles stance, left shoulder against the closet door, right elbow braced on my right knee, my M9 in my hand; slide locked back and barrel smoking. I looked at it, at Karen, and threw it down as if it had just become scorching hot. I rolled over to a seated position and looked at my hands and then cradled my head in them and started weeping. Karen slowly got out of bed and slid to the floor next to me. She pulled me to her chest and held me as I shook. We stayed like that for a long time until she coaxed me back into bed. My side had been soaked with sweat so she had me wait while she got a towel to put down. She held me the rest of the night. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I knew about traumatic stress but no way did I have that problem. That was for the Vietnam generation.Morning came and I awoke to the aroma of eggs and bacon. I slid out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweat pants. I was almost to the door when I realized that my. Jamie had seen enough, she could feel her heart beating fast in her ears. Slowly she took a step back from the door, clutching her bag under her arm. She turned and immediately bumped into her own desk, jostling everything on top of it as a pen rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. Jamie felt her heart stop and she froze in place, unsure if she should book it out of the office or wait. She heard the sounds from the other room stop and Mr. Harvey tell the woman to get off him, followed by the metallic sound of a zipper being pulled up.Just as she was about to take a step down the hall the door to Mr. Harvey’s office opened, the light from within illuminating the dark waiting room. ‘Oh shit shit shit!’ Jamie thought, still frozen in place with what she could only assume was a deer in the headlights look plastered across her face. Mr. Harvey stood in the doorway with his shirt open, his pants zipped but the top button undone. Light poured out around him and Jamie couldn’t see.
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