Dusk was beginning to descend over the ships like a blanket of darkness, dusted with a smattering of stars. Rachel watched the aircrafts leave fine lines of smoke as they zoomed through the sky. The training day was also coming to an end and she was guilty of sitting one ship over, waiting for Hector to finish up.
She'd been trying to build up the courage to talk to him ever since the day of the funeral, two weeks ago. She wanted to apologize to him, to tell him she was so sorry for pushing him away, that she thought she was doing the right thing.
Because he deserved someone better.
Someone that wasn't her.
But she could no longer stand to be away from him.
Copenhagen had finally lifted her security detail and all had been quiet on the capital front and with the outsiders. Without that to worry about for now, all Rachel wanted was desperately to patch things up with Hector.
It'd been a lonely few weeks and she'd grown tired of kitchen duty. In fact, she'd grown tired of not doing anything productive at all.
Everyone around her was contributing something to this upcoming war while she hid away in a kitchen hoping that it would make her problems go away.
But if Simone's death had taught her anything it had been that life was too unexpected to waste any second of it feeling trapped.
One day you were alive and the next you were gone. People got shot. Sometimes they drowned. And in the end life was way too short to live with what ifs and regrets.
Which was why she needed to talk to Hector.
Her new perspective on life allowed her, for the most part, to be at peace with herself.
Missing Simone had never really gone away of course but at least now she had a new thirst for life to hold on to—saw life through new eyes. Most days, she didn't feel guilty either.
Tilting her face up to the sky, she let the last rays of sunlight bathe her skin. With the sun now below the horizon, the air had grown colder but somehow it only made her more awake, alert, and more determined.
She'd killed two people. And she was going to be okay. Because the circumstances surrounding her life were not normal and she'd had to adapt in order to survive.
The remorse was a battle scar she'd tucked away under her skin. The guilt was a hardened scab that only made her stronger--to remind her that taking a life was never easy, but that sometimes it was necessary.
And that was okay. It had to be.
She didn't feel lost anymore. Most importantly, she didn't feel inadequate.
The guys were unloading the aircrafts now. Rachel watched hopefully for any sign of Hector.
Finally, the glass around his aircraft receded and he climbed out, face covered by a helmet but already she could tell it was him.
He set foot on the deck, shaking his hair out once he'd removed his helmet.
She stood, hoping to catch up to him on the ramp. A few guys brushed past her as she reached the runway, running her fingers over the cold metal railing.
Hector was trailing behind, chatting with another guy and pointing behind him at the aircrafts. Rachel couldn't help it that her eyes lingered on him and only him.
"Rachel," He said once he noticed her. He looked surprised to see her as he came to a stop at the edge of the ramp, his helmet still tucked under one arm.
YOU ARE READING
Marked ✔️Science Fiction
After World War III and biological warfare destroy two-thirds of the world population, what was once known as North America has become the Council of Nations, a ruthless society that has closed off its borders, trapping its citizens in. Now every ci...