will{m}...................katrina{f}
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I sat on the pier, my feet brushing over the clear blue water, minnows nipping at my toes. Nothing better than a warm sunny day in Los Angeles to keep the mind- "Oof!" I excliamed, catching myself to keep myself from falling off the dock. I looked up to see a man of medium hieght standing over me, his expression worried, hands shaking."I-I'm sorry..." He stuttered, stumbling with his words. "I- I ha... where are we, I mean, where am I?" He asked, golden eyes surveying his surroundings with fear. I put a hand down on the dock to give me some leaverage, and hoisted myself up. The man was wearing some sort of white suit, and a black jacket. Unusual for the extremely hot weather we were having- maybe he had heat stroke. "Um... a pier. Are you okay?" I said, reaching out to feel his forehead. He flinched, grabbing my head. "I- I'm sorry... I have... I have.... I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The doctors say.... they say my memory isn't what it used to... to be." He released his grip, his eyes flickering back and forth, between me and the ocean. "Oh, I see now..." I whispered, rubbing the back of my head, looking down at my feet. "Say, how long have you-" I looked up to see him in the distance fleeing. "Hey!" I exclaimed, chasing after him.
He was fast, but I caught up to him when he reached the road. There were too many cars going to fast. He had nowhere to go. "Hey, come here." I said, ushering him closer with my hand. He looked fearful, and shook his head. "Who are you?" He asked, shrinking back, away from me. "We were just talking over there- remember?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at his behavior. His gaze softened, and he burrowed his face in his hands. "Oh, oh, oh.... I'm sorry, I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder- the doctors say my memory isn't how it used to be." I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling out of sympathy. "It's okay- I know what you're going through." I whispered, walking him back to the pier. He chuckled darkly. "I find that hard to believe." I offered him a seat on one of the benched, and sat next to him.
"Well... a few years back, my brother, Jeremy, was sent to Iran. He was an escort to the uh, the soldiers." I said, resting my hands in my lap. "Every night, there would be some kind of ambush, some kind of attack." I continued, fiddling with my thumbs. "And... when he came back... he was different." I said, looking back over at the man. He was looking in the other direction, but I could tell he was listening. "PTSD." He said, shifting his gaze to me. I smiled gently, looking at my feet. "...yeah. Do you know the first thing he said to me when he came back?" I asked, my voice faltering. "He told me, 'In Iran, it's like falling through the sky. It was real- always full of energy. But coming home to you is like hitting the ground.' Can you believe that?" I exclaimed, resting my head in my hands. "Well... your brother is right. About falling through the sky." He said, hands still shaking. "B-but... I haven't hit the ground, yet." I looked over at him, attempting to give him a smile, but it seemed my lips were frozen in a solemn frown. "And..." He continued, raising his eyebrows. "I'm afraid of what will happen when I do." I scooted closer to the man, finally getting a smile to appear. "Don't worry." I whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'll be right there to catch you."
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Wow, I really like how this turned out. I'm not done with it though, this is just part one. 8D
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