Into the Fire

                          This is Chapter 4 of Then . . . you.

Chapter 4

He lay back on his bed, resting his head on his laced fingers. “What the hell am I doing?” he said quietly. He’d known guys like the one she described. Seemingly great dudes on the surface, likeable, fun-loving, attractive to women.

     His sister introduced him to one she was dating for a short time in her senior year of high school. Same story, but little did the guy know she’d been taking Krav Maga classes since she was 10 years old. He surprised her the first time he slapped her. Knocked her down. Apologized later for losing it. The next time he tried, he didn’t know what hit him. He laughed at the memory of his sister’s defiant retelling of the incident. She didn’t dare tell their brother or he would’ve put the kid in the hospital.

     He did miss his family. Every one of them former military. His sister still served, she being a Navy nurse at Walter Reed. He frowned briefly. He was the only one of the five of them who’d been wounded, his right femur shattered and held together by hardware. At least he didn’t lose his leg. It was touch and go for a few days as the doctors fought against persistent infections.

     He sat up, clenched his hands, and stretched his arms above his head. Sleep eluded him, and he hated to admit the reason for it. He needed to get up, let the weights and treadmill take the tension away. If they could.

Father, you give me the inspiration, the ideas, the words, all of it. Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus.