I want to mention that Vannah's experience in the Marines isn't described much, but I did do research for future chapters.
As they drove away from the hospital, Vannah stared out the window, watching the world pass by in a blur. The events of the past few days replayed in her mind like a horror movie she couldn't turn off. But it wasn't just Gideon's face she saw now. The assault had ripped open old wounds, bringing back memories she'd long tried to bury.
"I should have known," she whispered, more to herself than to Asher. "I should have seen it coming. Just like back then..."
Asher glanced at her, concern etching deeper lines into his face. "Vannah, love, what do you mean?"
She closed her eyes, her body tensing as if bracing for impact. "The assault... it's brought it all back. The sounds, the smells, the fear. Just like when I got held captive for a couple of days during my first tour of Afghanistan."
Asher's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He knew about Vannah's service in the Marines, but she rarely spoke about her experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan. "Your PTSD... it's been triggered?"
Vannah nodded, her eyes still closed. "I thought I had it under control. It's been years since I had a flashback this bad. But now... it's like I'm right back there, under fire, not knowing if I'll make it out alive."
Asher reached over, gently taking her hand, kissing the back of it. "You're safe now, Vannah. You made it out then, and you'll make it through this too. We'll all support you and anything you may need."
As they pulled into the driveway of their home, Vannah felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. The last time she had been here, Gideon had shown up, drunk and angry. The argument had escalated quickly, ending with her on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. The scene had been too similar to the chaos and destruction she'd witnessed overseas, sending her mind spiraling back to those traumatic moments.
When Vannah sat on the couch, surrounded by her loving family, she felt the weight of her experiences – both recent and past – pressing down on her. The familiar scent of home and the gentle touches of her children helped ground her in the present, but she could feel the tendrils of her PTSD threatening to pull her back into the past.
Stella, always perceptive, noticed the distant look in her mother's eyes. "Mom," she said softly, "are you with us?"
Vannah blinked, forcing herself to focus on her daughter's face. "I'm here," she said, her voice shaky. "It's just... it's all coming back. Not just Gideon, but... everything."
Understanding dawned on her children's faces. They knew about their mother's military service and the struggles she'd faced upon returning home.
Oliver leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Mom, remember what your therapist taught you? Can you tell us five things you can see right now?"
Vannah took a deep breath, grateful for her son's reminder of her grounding techniques. "I see... the yellow flowers on the coffee table. The family photo on the mantel, Gracynn's bright blue sweater. The sunlight coming through the curtains. And... all of your faces, looking at me with so much love."
"Four things you can touch or feel?"
"The fabric of my shirt, Asher holding me, the couch cushion I'm sitting on, and Gracynn sitting on the floor, leaning back against my legs."
"Three things you can hear?"
"Your talking, the gentle thumping of Asher's heart and the whirring sound that the ceiling fan makes."
"Two smells?"
Vannah sighed, "Asher's cologne and the wax warmer that has my favorite scent in it."
"Okay, taste?"
"This is an awkward considering I am surrounded by my children- yes, Isla that includes you- the slight taste of the coffee Asher has been drinking."
Jackson stared at his mom for a moment and instead of shyly keeping quiet, he spouted off with, "We get it, you played tonsil hockey with him, gross mom."
"What? Oliver asked me a question and I answered it truthfully. You kids know I am honest."
"Again, mom... gross," Jackson pretended to cringe.
As she spoke, Vannah felt herself becoming more present, the memories of Afghanistan receding slightly.
Stella spoke up, his tone careful. "Mom, I've done a little bit of research. There are support groups specifically for veterans who've experienced domestic violence. They understand how past trauma can complicate current experiences. Would you be interested in something like that?"
Vannah nodded slowly. "I think... I think that might be helpful. It's been so long since I've had to deal with my PTSD this intensely. I forgot how overwhelming it can be."
Denver reached out, carefully taking her mother's hand. "You're not alone in this, Mom. We may not understand exactly what you're going through, but we're here to support you however we can."
Isla, who had been quiet, suddenly piped up with, "I have a friend whose dad works with a program that provides service dogs for veterans with PTSD. They can be trained to help during flashbacks and anxiety attacks. Would you like me to get more information about that?"
For the first time since coming home, Vannah felt a spark of hope. "Yes, I think I'd like that. Thanks, honey."
Asher, who had been a constant, quiet presence at her side, stated softly. "We'll face this together, Vannah. The assault, the PTSD, all of it. One day at a time."
As the evening progressed, Vannah's family continued to surround her with love and support. They shared stories, not just of happy times, but of challenges they'd overcome together. Gradually, Vannah felt the hyper-vigilance that had gripped her since the assault begin to ease.
Before bed, Gracynn approached her mother with a small wooden box, decorated with the Marine Corps insignia. "Mom, I found this while we were cleaning up. I thought you might want it." Inside was Vannah's Purple Heart medallion, a tangible reminder of her strength and resilience.
Holding the medallion, Vannah felt a surge of emotion. It represented both the trauma she'd endured and the strength she'd discovered within herself. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
As she prepared for bed that night, surrounded by the love of her family and with the weight of the medallion in her hand, Vannah made a silent promise to herself. She would face this new battle with the same courage and determination that had carried her through her time as a Marine. With her family by her side and the right support, she would find her way back to peace – not just from the recent assault, but from the long-buried trauma of her past.
The road ahead would be challenging, but Vannah was a survivor. She had survived war, and she would survive this too. One day, one step at a time, she would reclaim her life and find healing.
