The Story of Least

There is no sex in this story,

My name is Least. It's not my birthname but my nickname I inherited when I was in Special Forces. I'm not 6'5 and 250 pounds or even close. Rather, I'm barely 5' 10 and usually run around 180 pounds. No one thought I could make it through special forces training but I was set on proving them wrong.

The completion of my training was celebrated at a bar where I was christened with the name of "least" because I was so much smaller than the goliaths in my group. An hour later the celebration had waned but not the party. I found myself a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

A beautiful young lady sat down beside me and said, "Hey Least, how about buying a gal a beer."

After nodding to the bartender, I asked how she knew my name? She nodded over to TK.

TK was our leader, a giant of a man with a death stare that could make men pee their pants. I was the recipient of one of those stares at that moment. I didn't know him well at that time. Later I learned he was mostly a teddy bear but if you were in the shit, you couldn't find a better man at your side.

Amy told me she was TK's kid sister and a nurse at the military hospital. The more she talked, the more her eyes shined like sapphires and the more I fell in love with her. I cursed myself though. Military marriages have the highest divorce rate in the country therefore I hoped to meet the future Mrs. Least after my service time was up. Man plans and god laughs.

The night was getting late and I hit the head before heading back to the barracks. On my back to the bar, I saw Amy playing with my phone.

"Can I help you," I said.

"I'm good, I just put my number in your phone so you can call me for a date," she said as she kissed my cheek and left with TK.

God was still laughing nine months later as I Amy and I said our vows. TK said at the reception that Amy always got what she wanted, and she wanted me from the day they walked into that bar.

Later, TK came up to me and I said, "Is this where you give me the warning on not to hurt her?"

"Least, if I felt I would have to give you that warning you would never have had a chance to buy that first beer."

Life with Amy that two years was great. My time in the military was less so. Too many missions, too many deaths at my hands. I quickly became the sharpshooter. They wanted to change my name to head shot because that's where my bullets usually struck. I was so removed from the actual carnage though. They were simply green blips on my night vision glasses heading in the wrong direction. I began wondering as my targets fell, whether they were men, women or children. Those events kept haunting more and more of my dreams.

On one op, I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize someone had snuck up behind me. We shot each other at the same time. Of course, his face exploded, he hit my leg. What I didn't realize the bullet had nicked an artery. TK called us to regroup, and I told him I had a leak. I passed out when I stood up. Somewhere I came to when TK and someone else were carrying me back to the copter.

The second time I woke up I was in a military hospital in Germany. A day later I was on a military transport on my way back to the states. My hospital stay was short lived, and since Amy worked there, she visited me frequently. But there was something off about her.

Before I was released, I was visited in my room by a strange man. He was missing his right hand and there was serious scarring slightly visible under his collar.

"Good morning Least, how's the leg?"

"Coming along and do I know you?"

"No, you don't. There is a group of us that can no longer serve active duty that try to help military spouses, usually they aren't aware of us. Mostly we watch and/or try and prevent anything bad from happening, excessive drinking, drug use or running around. Regarding Amy, I have to tell you she "stepped out" while you were gone. It was only the one time. Most guys choose to ignore an occasional night out, some let their egos get in the way. Thankfully, none of that is our business. I am sorry to bring you this news."

He got up and left, no goodbye, no handshake. He just left. I was devastated. Fuck, we had just celebrated our third anniversary. Still lost in those thoughts, my doctor came in and discharged me. Fuck, I had to go home to Amy. I called a cab to take me home.

TK was walking out as I approached the door and took me into a bear hug. I walked in and found Amy sitting at the table crying. She came running over to me, but I put my hands up to stop her.

"I am so sorry Least."

"Sorry only makes you feel better, not me Amy. I need a shower and bed."

We didn't speak again. I showered and headed for bed. Amy had beat me, she had on her classic sleeping shorts and a t-shirt which I always found sexier than lingerie on her. I climbed into bed and turned my back to her. She was crying, I was angry. She pulled me onto my back, put her head on my chest and continued to cry.

Listening to her cry was breaking my heart more than her unfaithfulness. Eventually I kissed her forehead. She looked up and kissed my lips. We continued to kiss, not mad passionate kisses, more like the soft gentle kisses with your first girlfriend. Amy started to slide her hand down my belly, and I pulled her hand back.

In response to the questioning look in her eyes, I said, "Too soon Amy."

"I can wait," she said with a sad smile on her face.

We fell asleep like that and in the morning, it felt like a bad storm had passed during the night and the world was going to be ok.

A few weeks later, there was a group of us in the bar including TK and Amy. Some guy came up to Amy and said, "Is this little wimp your special forces husband?"

Being on the small side of special forces meant I was usually a target of some drunken fool looking for bragging rights. Things never turned out well for them. Amy had a look of horror on her face. Maybe this was the guy who she had slept with, but he did not fit the description my mysterious friend gave me. The drunken fool wanted me to step outside with him. Normally I would decline but not this time.

He led the way, and I followed. He tried to sucker punch me as I walked through the door, but I used that door to whack him in the face and sent him backwards. While he was laying on the ground with a bloody nose, I told him to stay down.

Being a drunken fool, he got up and charged me. I helped on his way and sent him flying into the same door. Again, I ordered him to stay down but he wouldn't listen. This time he put his fists up in a boxing stance. I lost it, a rage flowed through me, and I started jabbing him in his face. He didn't just stand there but was trying to duck and weave, occasionally taking useless jabs at me that came nowhere close to hitting his target. His face continued to take my punishment. Both of his lips were split, blood was pouring from his mouth and nose. It was amazing he could see me as his eyes were swelling shut. I was like a machine, left, right, nose, eye, mouth repeat. Finally, TK grabbed me and pulled me away. The drunken fool still stood there, ducking and weaving while taking jabs at nobody.

Amy wasn't happy with me driving home. "You didn't have to do all that. He was done before he put his fist up. The look on your face scared me. Why did I have to ask TK to stop you? You've been called out in bars before, but you've never acted like that. Why?"

"I don't know Amy, the thought of stopping never entered my mind."

"Is this because of my mistake, were you punishing him? He wasn't the guy."

"I know he wasn't the guy. I asked him twice to stay down. I don't really remember what happened when he got back up."

Mentally, things kept going sideways for me. I had passed a hundred confirmed kills; a hundred green blips in my night vision goggles. When we got back from our last op, Al Jerez was on the tube and they were showing a row of bodies, mostly women and children with bullet shots to their heads. All Jerez was calling for an end to the senseless slaughter of innocent women and children. They weren't so innocent; the terrorist would send them into battle with their soldiers hoping to overwhelm our defenses. I knew that but the picture haunted my dreams and subsequent military action.

My mysterious stranger was also telling me that Amy had been stepping out again as he called it. Amy was "stepping out" now every time we went on an op. One time when I came back, we started fooling around on the couch after a lot of wine. Amy slid off her sleeping shorts, spread her legs and told me it was time to reclaim her pussy. I lost it and grabbed her neck and lifted her off the couch. I wasn't choking her, just holding her in the air and a twist of my wrist would have snapped her neck.

There was a look of horror on both our faces as I dropped her back onto the couch.

"I'm sorry Amy," I pleaded.

"Sorry only makes you feel better Least, what were you thinking?"

"Reclaim your pussy is what a cheating wife says to her cuckold husband when she comes home from her lover."

Another look of horror crossed her face, and she ran into the bedroom and locked the door.

According to my mysterious stranger, Amy hadn't been involved with anyone for about a year. After another op he came back with another report. This time it wasn't a one-night thing, but she had been sleeping with a Martin Goldberg frequently, hardly coming home to our house.

I was struggling to comprehend the news while unpacking when TK called with an emergency op. It was wheels up within the hour. I threw my stuff back in my bag, left a note for Amy saying we needed to talk about Martin.

Once in the plane, TK gave us the rundown on the op, a bomb making facility. This time like some others, there were no good sniping positions. I had been bugging TK to let me go in with the team and this time I was going to get my wish.

The entry went smoothly, we found three women in the downstairs area and made them sit on the sofa. I got to babysit them while the rest of the team went upstairs. I was listening to the coms link when the woman on the right pulled off her headgear and an automatic rifle from under her skirt. It was like an old western as we drew on each other. My shot blew her face off, her shots went wild as she fell but I was hit in my ankle, knee and side. I blew the faces off the other two women.

One of them must have been holding a trigger for an explosive device because there was a great flash of light. It all seemed in slow motion. The blast sent me backwards, the back wall blew out and you could see the neighboring house until the roof started to collapse. Then I was in extreme pain as the shrapnel rained through me.

I woke up once on a jet and then again in the military hospital in Germany. It wasn't like the last time I was there, much more of me was hurt and I had the feeling that parts of me weren't working. They kept me in a coma for most of the next two weeks while they tried to put me back together and remove all the stuff from my body that didn't belong there. My face was bandaged, and I couldn't see.

I broke through the drug induced haze and realized I was strapped to a gurney in a military transport. The next day, I felt myself coming out again. I still couldn't see. A gentleman was asking me questions, and I tried mumbling some answers. We played that game for three days before we could have an intelligent conversation.

After introducing himself as my doctor, he wanted to go through my injuries. "Most of your body was peppered by the small pellets they pack those bombs with. They have been removed. The bullet to your ankle has been removed and it did little damage. The bullet to your knee was more severe but we were able to put it back together. You're going to need a knee replacement, but I want to put that off until the rest of you heals. You may not even need it. The bullet to your side was a miracle bullet because it didn't touch anything important. Only need a couple of stitches to fix the entry and exit wound."

He paused and took a deep breath; this is where the shit show begins: why my eyes are bandaged, and I can't see.

"The shrapnel has shredded your left eye, we could not save it. We've bandaged both eyes for now. The muscles in your left eye will try and follow your right eye. We need them to heal and stop bleeding. We can remove the bandage in about two weeks, I think. Do you have any questions for me?"

I said no. My military career was over. You can't be a sniper with only one eye.

They gave me some drugs and I was in dreamland again. The next time I woke up, TK was sitting at my bedside. He gave me the run down on the op. It was a real shitshow. Three of our guys who were upstairs were seriously hurt when the house collapsed. It took them an hour to dig the four of us out of the rubble and he was certain I was dead. The whole thing was bullshit to begin with, there was no bomb making gear. TK told me the other guys were on the mend and would probably be returned to active service. He didn't say that about me.

On the way out, he said, "Amy wants to come in and see you. With that shit about Martin Goldberg, I told her to wait. My sister has been such a disappointment to me and my whole family and I'm sorry she is putting you through this. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy at a worst time."

"I need sometime TK. I'm just not ready to deal with that right now. How about when I get the bandages off my face, and I can see out of my remaining eye. I'm going to have to face her sooner or later."

TK nodded ok. They gave me a button so I could self-administer some pain meds. I pushed the button three times and was off to dreamland, or should I say nightmare land as the gunfight and explosion kept replaying in my mind.

I awoke when someone was touching my gentiles and realized I was on the receiving end of a sponge bath.

"I hope you're hot," I said.

A gruff male voice answered me, "Well there are a lot of ladies that think so."

We both laughed. His name was Jeane as in French Haitian Jeane and we became good friends.

Several times I drifted into consciousness and felt Amy lying on my chest crying. She was in the room as they removed the bandage around my eye, hovering in the background. They gave me a mirror to show the scarring around my eye, a glass eye and some plastic surgery would restore my handsome looks. That seemed to make everyone laugh. In the meantime, they put a large eye patch where the left eye used to be.

After everyone left, Amy came over to me crying but I put my hand up to stop her. She jumped back like I hit her.

"We need to talk about Martin Amy. You need to end it."

There was a pause, a hesitation that broke my heart.

"Can't we talk about it?"

"You already gave me your answer Amy. We're done here."

"But Martin said if you really loved me, you could share me. I love both of you and I don't want to choose between you."

I knocked over the bedside table and Jeane came running into the room. I held my hand up to him.

"Listen to me Amy. First, I never want to hear "Martin said" again. Two, obviously he does not know me very well, obviously you don't know me very well and I have no fucking idea who you are. Now get the fuck out of my room. I never want to see you again!"

Amy ran out crying and I started pressing my pain med button while Jeane was checking my vitals.

I used my next period of consciousness to call a lawyer and file for divorce. He was kind enough to come to my hospital bed. Amy would be served after her shift three days later.

My rehab was progressing. I was able to walk around although most people would not consider it walking. I was able to go without the bedpan. Jeane I were both happy about that. I learned he had been a field medic until he lost his foot in a battle.

Amy was still coming into my room when I was sleeping and crying on my chest. I was sitting at a table in my room when Amy and Martin walked in.

"You have gone batshit crazy Amy," I shouted, and Jeane came into the room.

"He's my lawyer Least. I'm allowed to have council with me when we're discussing the divorce."

"I'm not stupid Amy and your so-called lawyer knows that if he's present, these discussions are meaningless without my attorney being present."

Martin said, "Least, this doesn't have to come down to a divorce."

I nodded to Jeane, he called security and had Martin removed from the hospital and banned. Amy went running from the room. My lawyer had him sanctioned for violating some legal practice. I really didn't know what sanctioned meant.

TK would come and see me once or twice a week. His team was heading out again. It would be their first assignment without me covering their ass and he was worried. Our conversation turned to Amy. She had already been ostracized by most of the hospital staff and her stunt with Martin had soured the few that wanted to be open-minded. Her supervisor wanted her resignation. Using her position as hospital staff to ambush me with her lawyer was an abuse of privilege. She could resign or be fired. Amy had moved in with Martin.

The following week my lawyer called to say that Amy had signed the papers, and the divorce would be final in 90 days.

I continued my rehab and kept the house. Amy made no claim to it and there were no steps. The knee replacement came sooner rather than later. Amazingly it hurt more after the surgery. TK said Amy married Martin as soon as the divorce was finalized. All of her family and friends including himself refused to attend. Only Martin's family and friends attended. TK still spoke to her once a week he said, she is still his sister. He said he couldn't remember the last time he saw her smile and she's even frowning in her wedding pictures. She hasn't been able to find a job even though there's a severe nursing shortage in the area.

At his next visit, TK told me that Amy had filed for divorce from Martin. They had been married less than a month. Martin was being a dick about the divorce. He had spent a lot of money on the shitshow of a wedding and he didn't think Amy had given the relationship enough time. They had been together for over six months. TK said he had to go visit Martin personally to get him to agree to the divorce. Several members of our group also had paid him daily visits until he caved. They had honored my wishes and didn't hurt him. They did scare the shit out of him, and he used a legal loophole to release Amy from the marriage.

Three months later, TK called me and asked to meet at our usual watering hole. I was sitting at the bar waiting for TK when I heard, "Hey Least, how about buying a gal a beer."

There was Amy, looking tired and older. I nodded to the bartender. We sat there looking at each other. Amy hadn't taken a sip of her beer before she buried her face on my shoulder and started crying. I held her to me, confident I was also crying. Eventually I kissed her forehead. She looked up and kissed my lips. We continued to kiss, not mad passionate kisses, more like the soft gentle kisses with your first girlfriend.

"Let's go," I said nodding to TK hiding in the corner.

We got back to the house. The kissing picked up where we left off. Amy started to unbutton my shirt. She stopped and looked at me, "Too soon," she asked.

"No," I said, scooped her up and brought her to our bedroom.

We went to counseling. Well, I went to repair my relationship with Amy, I was also seeing another counselor to address some anger issues related to my combat experience.

Amy said she kept trying to end the relationship with Martin, but he always convinced her to keep seeing him. He even convinced her that if I truly loved her, I would continue to let her see him. She wanted to know why I wasn't more forceful in stopping her other times she cheated.