Ashes in the Darkness

Trust

The next day I laid in the bed, my bag still packed, waiting for the evening to come around. I had been given leave for the day, so I had slept as long as I could trying to catch up on the massive amounts of sleep I had missed for the last week.

It was the light knock on my door that had my heart racing, hoping it would be a giant skull-faced man, but I found myself face to face with Sergeant Balmecada. A few days ago, I had practically fought with her in the bathroom, now she was outside my door with a silky red dress. "Buenas tardes, me han pedido que les traiga esto." [Good afternoon, I've been asked to bring this to you]

"Right, um..." I felt incredible remorse for the way you had treated her while my mind had been reeling. "Thank you."

"It was a dress I wore to a dance in highschool, I doubt it fits me anymore," she lifted the red garment and held it up to you, "you're a bit smaller than me. But try it."

"Thank you," I said again, "I want to apologize for my behavior the other night, I had been through it."

"I am a medical sergeant at a Mexican special forces base," she said, walking into the room and placing the dress over the railing of the bed. "I would say your reaction to your first confirmed kill was mild."

"How did you know it was my first?"

"Alejandro had me make a chart for you in case things got more intense and we had to sedate," he hands went to her hips as she looked at me, when I didn't move, she pointed to the dress.

"Well?"

"Oh right." I picked up the dress and went to the bathroom. The dress was quite beautiful to say the least. It was satin and shiny, smooth to the touch. I had never worn anything like this, not even at high school dances.

I thought back to the last time I had worn a dress, it was a long time ago, before I had gone into the military. Perhaps it was my senior year prom? I had gone with a group of friends kids, my date's name was James and we had just been paired together because everyone else had been with their significant other. He was cute but had acne and was awkward to dance with. I had spent most of the night in the gym stands, hoping that midnight would come faster.

As I put the dress on in the bathroom I looked into the mirror and the vision of a seventeen-year-old me flashed in my mind. She had been so young and ready to go into the military, she had wanted to save lives. Make a difference. She would have never believed the kind of things I was doing now, the terrible things I was being forced to do.

I remembered walking down the stairs the night of prom and my father clutching his heart when he saw me. My dress was some kind of frilly baby blue that my mother had picked out, insisting on doing my makeup. I wanted my hair up but she has forbid it, my hair down and flowing in the breeze. My father had said some kind of intimidating words to my date, to which I had rolled my eyes, "he barely even knows me dad, we just got paired together."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," he said as my date got in the car, silently. Not even opening the door or helping me.

"Don't worry, Dad. You've taught me enough self-defense," I reminded him. But I could still see the terrified look on his face. I took that as a sign to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek, "I'll be home by midnight."

Now I was looking at myself, disgusted with how beautiful I looked in the dress. It fit near perfectly: tightening around my thicker backside, hugging my thighs, the top dropped just low enough to reveal some cleavage. It was a much more mature dress than the innocent one that I had worn to prom. I felt so out of place, so uncomfortable. Although I couldn't deny my genuine beauty, I felt horrendous in the satin fabric. I felt much more beautiful in a pair of cargo pants and a muscle shirt. Exiting the bathroom, I walked back into the dorm to find a pair of black heels and a small makeup bag on my bed.