Afterwards
It was over. The cult of killers. Joe Carroll.
It all had finally came to an end.
Mike Weston collapsed onto his old bed and stared up at the ceiling of his small apartment. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to just relax for a minute in his home. The fiasco had taken so much out of him and he spent most of his nights either on the job or in the hospital. But now, it was finally time for him to get some real sleep.
He slowly closed his eyes, but every time he did, they would end up open again a minute later. He tossed and turned in his sheets for hours until he finally drifted off into sleep.
Flashes of the cult members appeared in his mind. He saw Joe Carroll pointing a knife at him, Debra Parker still and motionless on the forest ground, and he felt the cold pipes being slammed against his body as he desperately tried to keep himself upright. He felt the blood running down his face and he looked up to see Roderick pointing a gun directly into his line of vision. Before he could even react, the sound of a gunshot went off-
The young agent nearly jumped up out of his bed. His heart was racing and he was covered in sweat. His pillow was soaked and his shirt was sticking to his chest.
Mike did not sleep for the rest of the night. He kept doing whatever he could to distract himself and then as he became more and more deprived of sleep, he began to drink coffee. Then coffee turned to alcohol.
This went on for a week.
After all that Mike went through, he was given time off from work. He knew he had to go back at some point, but right now it was all he could do to get through each day. He felt ashamed that this was affecting him as much as it was, but he had to admit that he should have seen this coming. He was already feeling some of the emotional effects of all the torture and everything else while they were still on the case. It was his need for revenge and the constant distraction of work that kept fueling him, but now that it was over, it all just came down at once.Mike then decided to rely on someone else for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t sure if he’d pick up, but he wanted to try.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Mike,” he spoke softly, surprised that he got an answer on his first try.
“Hey, Mike. What’s the problem?” Ryan responded.
“I, uh, I just…How do you do it?”
The other line stayed silent.
“I just…I feel so weak. I should be able to push it all away; it’s part of the job, you know? I should just let all this go and…and just…I hate being so afraid all the time. I hate reliving it all every time I go to sleep. I hate this…”
Ryan Hardy stayed quiet and waited for Mike to let out all of his frustrations. He waited for him to let out all of his feelings that he had to keep bottled up to himself. When he finished, Ryan spoke as softly as he could.
“Well, the drinking helps,” he said, “but also, you have to know that this isn’t something that will just go away. You have to keep it with you, but there are things you can do to make it easier, things and people who will make the weight of it lighter. For instance, try to find someone who makes you forget for a while. If possible, find someone who understands or at least is willing to try to. Even if you don’t really talk about it, knowing that they know and still feel the same about you is a good feeling. There are people you know now that will help you if you ask them. Just give them a call and I’m sure they’ll answer. You’re a good kid, I’d rather you not end up the same as me. I want to make sure you don’t.”
Mike was the one to be silent this time. The silence lasted for a few minutes before Mike finally spoke.
“Thanks, Ryan.”
“No problem. Keep in touch, Mike.”
The call ended and Mike put the phone down beside him. He took a deep breath and decided that he was going to try to get back on his feet. It was going to take a long time and the haunting memories would never really leave him, but he was going to start to take back control of his life and that alone takes courage.
And all he needed to get started was a little support from a friend.
It all had finally came to an end.
Mike Weston collapsed onto his old bed and stared up at the ceiling of his small apartment. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to just relax for a minute in his home. The fiasco had taken so much out of him and he spent most of his nights either on the job or in the hospital. But now, it was finally time for him to get some real sleep.
He slowly closed his eyes, but every time he did, they would end up open again a minute later. He tossed and turned in his sheets for hours until he finally drifted off into sleep.
Flashes of the cult members appeared in his mind. He saw Joe Carroll pointing a knife at him, Debra Parker still and motionless on the forest ground, and he felt the cold pipes being slammed against his body as he desperately tried to keep himself upright. He felt the blood running down his face and he looked up to see Roderick pointing a gun directly into his line of vision. Before he could even react, the sound of a gunshot went off-
The young agent nearly jumped up out of his bed. His heart was racing and he was covered in sweat. His pillow was soaked and his shirt was sticking to his chest.
Mike did not sleep for the rest of the night. He kept doing whatever he could to distract himself and then as he became more and more deprived of sleep, he began to drink coffee. Then coffee turned to alcohol.
This went on for a week.
After all that Mike went through, he was given time off from work. He knew he had to go back at some point, but right now it was all he could do to get through each day. He felt ashamed that this was affecting him as much as it was, but he had to admit that he should have seen this coming. He was already feeling some of the emotional effects of all the torture and everything else while they were still on the case. It was his need for revenge and the constant distraction of work that kept fueling him, but now that it was over, it all just came down at once.Mike then decided to rely on someone else for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t sure if he’d pick up, but he wanted to try.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Mike,” he spoke softly, surprised that he got an answer on his first try.
“Hey, Mike. What’s the problem?” Ryan responded.
“I, uh, I just…How do you do it?”
The other line stayed silent.
“I just…I feel so weak. I should be able to push it all away; it’s part of the job, you know? I should just let all this go and…and just…I hate being so afraid all the time. I hate reliving it all every time I go to sleep. I hate this…”
Ryan Hardy stayed quiet and waited for Mike to let out all of his frustrations. He waited for him to let out all of his feelings that he had to keep bottled up to himself. When he finished, Ryan spoke as softly as he could.
“Well, the drinking helps,” he said, “but also, you have to know that this isn’t something that will just go away. You have to keep it with you, but there are things you can do to make it easier, things and people who will make the weight of it lighter. For instance, try to find someone who makes you forget for a while. If possible, find someone who understands or at least is willing to try to. Even if you don’t really talk about it, knowing that they know and still feel the same about you is a good feeling. There are people you know now that will help you if you ask them. Just give them a call and I’m sure they’ll answer. You’re a good kid, I’d rather you not end up the same as me. I want to make sure you don’t.”
Mike was the one to be silent this time. The silence lasted for a few minutes before Mike finally spoke.
“Thanks, Ryan.”
“No problem. Keep in touch, Mike.”
The call ended and Mike put the phone down beside him. He took a deep breath and decided that he was going to try to get back on his feet. It was going to take a long time and the haunting memories would never really leave him, but he was going to start to take back control of his life and that alone takes courage.
And all he needed to get started was a little support from a friend.