Dmitri rushed out of the bar trying not to fall apart. His co-workers had NO IDEA. They joked about Russian brutality like it wasn't real. Like it wasn't the horror that he knew it was. How could they be so casual about it? These Americans were ridiculous, thinking their worst nighmare was forgetting to update their social media.
He stumbled behind a gate and fumbled for his pills.Those damn pills that he hated and needed. Pills that would get him in trouble one day. What if Dr. McCord found out? He would lose everything just because he was stupid enough to get addicted.
But he couldn't stop. They were all that made his head quit pounding. He was still suffering, even though he was safe in America with his sister. Every night, reliving the horrors of Russian imprisonment. The pain, wracking his body. Screaming for it to stop and praying the next jolt would kill him becausd then it would finally be over. Then waking up gasping and sweating, trting to convince himself it was all over, and knowing it never truly would be. It was all he could do to keep it together. Always hoping that the next day would prove better than the last. That one day he would wake up and feel normal again.
At least he had kept the promise he had made to his parents. A promise to take care of his sister, and put her first for the rest of their lives. Talia was now cancer free, and leadimg a healthy, happy life. She was all that truly mattered.
He fumbled with the pills, finally grabbing one and hurriedly swallowing it, waiting for the fake relief it brought. He sighed and leaned heavily against the fence, attempting to relax. He wished it was all over, but knew it wouldn't. All he could do was keep trying and never give up. Maybe one day he would find peace once more.