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Closing her eyes, Rayne took in a braced breath. “My name is Rayne. And I know all about the nightmares where the ones that you love are murdered in front of your eyes and you are powerless to stop it.” Her voice fell away.
Jack’s head snapped toward her.
She busied herself cleaning up the implements that she had used to suture him while she spoke. “My husband and I were on a medical mission in Peru three years ago. The Peruvian government had taken down a guerrilla group known as the Glory Road near the Amazonian Valley. They had killed or arrested approximately one-hundred members of the group. Matt and I were part of a small medical unit that went in to care for the women that had been held as sex slaves. They were in terrible condition, dehydrated, starved, and beaten. Anyway, Matt, me, and my four-year-old daughter, Sierra, were housed in one of the tiny shacks in a camp. One night, the camp was attacked by the guerrillas they hadn’t captured. It was a slaughter.” Rayne’s voice hiccupped. She needed to catch her breath. She sank onto the edge of the bed.
Jack watched her intently while she fought to muster composure.
Finally, she continued, “They killed my husband and my daughter, but for some reason they spared me and several of the women who had been rescued. I wished that they hadn’t. I was their prisoner for seven horrible months. I prayed for death every night. Uncle Walt and his team rescued me. It’s been a long road back to becoming a functioning human being.”
Hesitating, she wrung her hands together. She found the courage to look him in the eye.
“So you see, Jack, I have a complete understanding of what you’re going through.”