Page 105 of Fight Or Flight

No how.

These motherfuckers didn’t know Brooklyn. They didn’t know what we had. They didn’t know our situation was unlike anything else. That we were connected in ways no one else could imagine—especially not these two worthless cunts.

I should’ve ignored them.

I should’ve went about my business because deep in my heart I knew Brooklyn would never cheat on me. My pretty little hurricane was waiting for me. She was playing that stuffed animal over and over, wishing I was next to her. She was sitting in the kitchen with a sleeve of Oreos counting down the days until I could grab the milk for her, writing letters I’d one day receive and read until my eyes crossed.

But what I knew in my heart never made it to my head, and my fists continued to pummel Harf until my drill sergeant pulled me off him. The next day I was recycled. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is the punishment feared by every trainee. I was moved to a different basic unit, one that trailed behind me by a week.

My fourteen-week sentence in basic, became fifteen.

My phone privileges delayed again.

And my mail—who knows when I’ll get that.

But worse than that, I couldn’t shake Burrows and Harf’s words, and when my phone privileges were finally restored, I made the biggest mistake of my life.

I broke both our hearts.

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