Page 4 of Rebel

I shifted my gaze to the corner of the room, focused on the place where the walls met the ceiling.A tiny crack had formed there.Something structural giving way under pressure.I knew the feeling.

“There’s nothing to tell that isn’t in your file.”My muscles coiled tight, ready to flee even though I hadn’t moved.“Two soldiers drugged me.They raped me.They’re in custody.I’m getting discharged.End of story.”

“That’s the event,” he said softly.“I’m asking about your frustration.”

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.“My frustration?”I let out a humorless laugh.“My frustration is that I’m sitting here having to explain my frustration when it should be fucking obvious.”

He didn’t flinch at my language.Just nodded like I’d said something profound instead of cursing in his pristine little office.

“It should be obvious,” he agreed.“And it is, to anyone who’s paying attention.You’ve had your career taken from you because of someone else’s criminal actions.That’s a profound injustice.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that.The acknowledgment knocked something loose in my chest, something I’d been holding tight.I reeled it back in quickly.

“Yeah, well.”I shrugged again.“The Army’s gonna Army.”

“What does that mean to you?”

I sighed, the sound harsh in the quiet room.“It means the machine keeps moving.People get ground up, spat out, and the gears keep turning.I’m just another cog that didn’t fit right.”

Dr.Winters made a note.I wanted to snatch the pen from his hand, see what he was writing about me.What box he was putting me in.

“Let’s talk about your plans after discharge,” he said, looking up from his notes.“Do you have somewhere to go?Family?Friends?”

“I’ve got plans.”

“Would you share them with me?”

I tapped my foot faster, shifted in my seat.“I’m going to travel.See the country.Figure things out.”

“That sounds very open-ended.”

“That’s the point.”

He nodded, made another note.“Do you have a support system in place?People you can reach out to if things get difficult?”

“I don’t need a support system.”The words came out automatically, defensive.“I’ve been taking care of myself since I was sixteen.”

“Everyone needs support sometimes, Rio.”

“Not me.”I shook my head, dismissive.“I’m good on my own.”

Dr.Winters took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of his mug.His eyes were kind in a way that made me want to look away.I didn’t want kindness.Kindness made things harder.

“The trauma you experienced --”

“Don’t.”I cut him off, my voice hard.“Don’t call it that.”

“What would you prefer I call it?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question.No one had asked me that before.“I don’t know.Just… not that.”

“Okay.”He set his mug down.“We can find different words.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between us.The humming light seemed louder suddenly.My foot kept tapping, tapping, tapping.A physical outlet for the anxiety crawling through my veins.

“You said you’re going to travel,” he said finally.“Any particular destination in mind?”

Safe territory.I relaxed a fraction.“Heading west first.Maybe California.Then wherever I feel like going.”

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