Welcome to the next chapter in Elizabeth Richards' life. Originally, this was where I intended to start the story, but as I developed my original draft and watched the main characters develop their own stories, I chose to give you, the reader, more than just a single condensed chapter.
My main character has been given a complex story starting from her being a victim of unspeakable domestic violence through to a life dictated by her own desires and perfectionist personality. Elizabeth is bi-sexual but leans towards her long term same sex desires.
While you could take this chapter as a standalone, I encourage you to start at the beginning to get the background elements I have presented.
I am introducing PTSD and mental health struggles that our veterans and first responders encounter. PTSD is a very cruel mistress, those who give their lives to the service of their countries can embrace. I have simplified the symptoms for the story but left enough details for the reader to get a feel of the illness.
As always I look forward to your comments and feedback, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
"I don't need this shit tonight"
, I screamed as I kicked my bag in frustration.
I had only been back in Washington for a few days after being recalled from my current UN deployment to Ukraine. I was halfway through my latest 12-month detachment to the UN War Crimes Commission when I was withdrawn from the field and, along with my current second in command, dumped into a heavy lift military aircraft that was bound for the United States. It was only after the plane took off that we found out the reason for this unplanned trip, we were required to front a congressional panel to discuss our current investigations.
The nearly 12 hours stuck in the cargo hold of the transporter did little to improve my mood. The thought of spending my time answering questions from politicians and self-important twats made my blood boil. I had fronted many of these committees during my time as a field investigator, none had been of use or benefit for the important work I was involved with.
After we were landed, we were met by some congressman's aide who tried to sound important as he ushered us to a waiting car. The drive to our destination was quick but still gave my mood time to grow worse as we were taken straight to the congress building instead of our accommodation.
It was apparent from the minute the door shut behind us for the "secret" discussion that this was not the usual useless fact-finding committee, but rather the start of some panicked political cover-up. For the next three days, I was interrogated, questioned, and threatened by a group of white house executives, politicians and government lawyers. They were not interested in our findings, rather they wanted me to agree to "clean up my findings along the diplomatic lines" that would not create unnecessary issues for the Presidential office or the Russian Government. I was not surprised by the direction the discussions headed, but unfortunately for their plans, they picked the wrong person to participate in their whitewashing arse covering exercise. My integrity had never been for sale, a fact the committee chairman struggled to accept. They also overlooked that I worked for the Australian Govt and was assigned to the United Nations for the duration of my current deployment. Eventually, after receiving numerous threats about secrecy and national security, I was dismissed from the proceeding.
The early release from the politician's endless questions gave me several valuable free days before I needed to return to Ukraine. This time would allow me to decompress with a good book and pleasant music before I returned to the horrors of the battlefield.
My plans for a long hot bath and some well-earned peace were scuttled even before I made it to my room. My director had left a message with the hotel's concierge asking me to stop by his office for a "quick chat." As I knocked on his door, I knew two things for sure: first, the chat wouldn't be fast and second, I would not like what he was about to say.
At first, he kept the meeting light; he even offered to make me a coffee, which put me on edge, then, with the smile of the devil, he dropped his bomb. There was a formal function being hosted by some defence industry powerhouses being held that night and I had gratefully accepted an invitation to attend. I could have been knocked over with a feather when he dropped the news before trying everything in my playbook short of a good old-fashioned tantrum to avoid this torture. He allowed me to rant for a few moments before suggesting I hit the shops to find something more suitable to wear as my stained work shirt, cargo pants and boots were not suitable for the red carpet.
I kicked my bag again for good measure and let out a string of profanities ending in a good old "for fucks sake". Before, I sat on the bed and stewed in my self-pity.
The fact of the matter is that I was worn out and needed a break from my front-line duties. I had been pushing myself to the extreme for over twenty years, trying to prove myself. My lifestyle choices have caused me to live a nomadic life, jumping from one overseas investigation to another. I was very passionate and good at my job, but my management and various field commanders took my time, skills and knowledge for granted, and I let them.
My work and life choices came at a substantial personal cost in that I allowed the love of my life to drift away from me. Losing Bella was my greatest mistake in life. It is one mistake that I can never forgive or undo the damage it caused. While we remained in contact as friends, I never saw her descend into a hell of a marriage that saw her and her children abused for over ten years.
I had only discovered the hell Bella was living with her family ten months prior; I remember the horror of that late-night phone call from my friend Annie as clear as a bell. Between her sobs she told me Bella's parent had been killed in a traffic accident. They had died instantly when a piece of mining equipment fell off a passing truck and smashed through their windscreen.
I was on the road heading to my friends within half an hour of receiving that life-changing call. The 12-hour drive allowed my mind to travel through time back to when life was simple and how we all enjoyed each other's love and friendship. The trip, along with the next few days, was a haze. The interactions with the police and arranging a funeral were the hardest tasks I had ever been involved in, but with my sister Julie and our friend Annie, we helped Bella survive the loss of her parents and our loving and dear friends.
Bella was a shattered soul. Her bubbly personality was replaced by a lifeless zombie. She was stepping through the motions trying to survive her soul-crushing loss. At first, I put it down to her total grief, but then I noticed that around her husband, she would tense up and drop her head like she was in shame or frightened. I also noticed that her children, Margot and Kevin, acted tense around him.
The funeral was horrible, as was the wake, but near the end, while I was sitting with Bella, her husband came over, grabbed her shoulder and told her they were leaving as he was ready. He then said, "
I told you to never talk to lesbian slut again. Do you want me to beat the perversion out of you again?
" I stood up to confront him when he did the best thing for me but dumbest for his welfare; he backhanded me across the face.
The next few minutes were utter chaos. Ryan's cousin Bruce, a soon-to-be-retired police commissioner, came barrelling through the crowd like a wounded bull while I reacted and kicked this twat right in the balls before punching him in the face. I would have got a second hit in, except Bruce hit him with such force he needed an ambulance to take him on his way. There was total pandemonium for the next few moments as the fight rolled around the floor, Bella and the kids screamed while friends and family came to their aid.
As Bruce dragged the near unconscious twat out of the room Bella fell into my arms crying, and when I held her tight, she cringed. That was when my failure to my friend became real. I stood her up and pulled her blouse forward, revealing the bruises and scars. My rage boiled but nothing like Bruce's anger when he saw the damage to his only niece. Several family members had to hold him back from going another few rounds with the whimpering husband.
After her husband was placed in the back of an ambulance, safely secured with handcuffs, I took Bella and her children back to my house where I knew they would be safe from harm. Julie helped the kids get comfortable while I looked after Bella's needs. After I made up her bed, we sat on its edge and with her in my arms cried until we were empty. Eventually Bella fell asleep in my arms and as I rocked her I swore I would never allow these special people to be harmed again.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity for us all. As the depth of their horror-filled lives became known, our focus turned into resetting their lives and safety. At first, her marriage was good; her husband had accepted her children, and they were happy. Her perfect life changed forever after one of my visits. When we greeted each other with a kiss followed by a tight hug, that in my mind, was very normal and platonic. After I left, he slapped her hard and questioned her about our relationship. In her fear, Bella told him we had been lovers at school. This news set him off, and she received a severe beating. Over the next few weeks, he apologised and excused his behaviour, but the beatings became more regular and harsh.
She tried to escape a few times but was always caught out and punished. Bella told me that the routine was always the same: abuse, me receiving the blame for her depraved behaviour before he would punch or whip her into submission. While this was enough for me to contemplate murder, what Margot and Kevin told me made my blood run cold. Both these lovely kids had been abused by their stepfather mentally, physically and sexually. They had both been digitally raped by their stepfather on more than one occasion. Margot was tormented worse with him telling her he was going to fuck the virginity out of her when she reached the right age.
