The way she was staring at me with wide eyes said she could see where this was going.
"I tried everything I could to reestablish connection, but it was pointless. There was nothing I could do. They leveled the place." I drew a long, shuddering breath. My chest felt like it was filling with cement. "The first thing I saw after the explosions finally stopped was a child stumbling out of the smoke. A fucking child!"
"Jesus." The horror in her voice mirrored what was rising inside me, that aching guilt that had threatened to swallow me so many times in the past.
"I can see that moment in my mind like it happened yesterday. He was so goddamn small, and he was just painted black with dirt and soot from head to toe. What really sticks with me though were the sounds he was making, this fucking gut punch of a cry that just made me want to burst into tears on the spot. I've never seen a more frightened person in my entire life. His world had literally exploded around him. I felt this overpowering urge to run to him and scoop him up and tell him it was all going to be okay, but that wasn't true. Nobody else walked out of that place. When the dust finally settled, we found fifteen villagers in the wreckage — all women and children. The militants had been holding them hostage."
She sat in stunned silence for several seconds. I didn't blame her. That was how I'd felt ever since that day. "But that wasn't you, Logan. You tried to stop them."
"But I was a part of it!" My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "I was the one who called it in. I was the one that didn't stop the enemy before they found shelter. We killed them, Grace! There are no excuses for that!"
I turned away, no longer able to look her in the eye. I half expected her to make an excuse and leave. In the end, it was this guilt that drove Fi away. She'd said she was there for me, but it was a superficial offer. She didn't really want any part of my torment. She wanted the carefree man I'd been before, the one that had died back in that desert. Once she understood that he wasn't coming back, she began looking at me differently. I couldn't stand seeing that sadness in her eyes, that tiny tremor of fear.
But Grace didn't react that way. I felt her arms embrace me from behind as she planted a gentle kiss on my neck. "I'm so sorry you went through that, Logan. I can't even imagine how horrible it must have been, but you can't blame yourself. You did everything you could."
I didn't know how to reply. My breath was coming in fits and spurts now, and I realized I was crying. I blinked hard, trying to will the tears away. I didn't want her to see me like this, so fucking broken.
"It's not just that day," I said. "How many other times did that happen without me even realizing? How many other orphans did our war make? Even if you ignore the civilians, soldiers have kids too. I just don't know how to justify it anymore."
She exhaled slowly, seemingly lost for words. What did I expect? What response is there for this?
"A lot of the stuff I saw over there, I'm never going to forget." I continued. "It's fucking burned into my brain so deep that I see it even when I'm sleeping. Even now, some days the guilt is so strong I just want to end it. That's actually why I joined Final Blow. When Charlie came to me and suggested putting me in the ring, I didn't do it because I wanted to fight. I did it so someone would put me out of my misery. That first night, I showed up at the cage after an all-day bender. I hadn't slept, I'd polished off a bottle of Jack and I fully expected the guy who was waiting inside to put me on the ground, but as soon as fists started flying, my body just went on auto pilot, and before I knew it, he was the one who was down." I shook my head. "Couldn't even get that right."
I felt the overpowering desire for a drink, that unquenchable itching at the back of my throat that set all my nerves alight. If Grace hadn't been there, I'd probably already have been out the door and sprinting toward the liquor store. But the feel of her fingers against my skin, that soothing contact, held me back. She was still here. I'd given her everything, and she was still here.
She brought a hand up under my chin, tilting my head up until I was staring her right in the eyes. There was such compassion there, it was almost heartbreaking. "Remember what you said to me that night in the alley when I asked you how you coped?" she said. "You can't take responsibility for other people's actions. You didn't force the enemy to take hostages. You didn't command any attacks or drop any bombs. All you did was follow procedure and try to keep your men safe. Your team may have been present, but that doesn't make it your fault."
I desperately wanted to believe her, but the memories and tears were coming thick and fast now. Some things you just can't rationalize, no matter how logical they seem.