It had been twelve years. Twelve years since he had been in that uniform. Twelve years since he had laid in the dirt waiting for his target to come into sight, twelve years since the nightmares started. It took twelve years to regret ever signing on for a second tour, and then the third. It had been twelve years since he lost himself.
Yet here he is, twelve years later, looking at the same paper he got so many years ago. The one that called him to service, the one that he agreed to, not knowing what it would do to him. Twelve years ago, he had no idea that he would be to hell and back, fighting many addictions that those done with their tours faced.
Twelve years was all it took to change the man he had been looking to become, to the man that he never wanted to be.