I don’t know why I’m writing.
Andrew said it might help.
Said his wife used to do it.
I don’t want to talk.
I don’t want to think.
They’re gone. I saw them.
I saw what they did.
I don’t want to remember.
I still smell it. The blood. The sweat. The screams.
I don’t know why I’m the one who lived.
I wish I didn’t.
Andrew brought me a blanket that smells like the ocean. It makes me feel sick. I keep dreaming of her voice. Of her hand grabbing mine. Why wasn’t I stronger? Why couldn’t I help? He says I’m safe now. But I don’t feel safe.
I feel hollow.
He makes food every day. Talks to me like I’m someone worth talking to. I barely speak. Sometimes I nod. He doesn’t stop trying.
Why?
I’m just a big freak with sharp teeth
I asked him today: why didn’t you come sooner? He didn’t answer. He looked at me like I stabbed him.
I didn’t mean to say it.
I think-
I don't know.
Combat training is stupid.I’m always bruised. I never win.
He says I need to “know my enemies, until they’re not.”
Stupid.
I screamed today during drills. I snapped.Threw the blade. It missed. I cried.
Andrew didn’t say anything. Just picked up the blade and sat with me until I stopped.I didn’t know what to say, so I said thank you.
I had a memory today I forgot I had. She used to braid my hair. Said it helped keep the knots out when I swam. I tried braiding it myself. It looked bad. I kept it anyway.
I landed a hit on Andrew. First time ever. He smiled. Not in a “good job” way, but in a “you’re finally getting it” way.
I felt proud. Then guilty. I shouldn't feel proud. I still am not strong enough.
He asked me to pilot the frame today. The controls felt like an extension of me. I liked it. The power, the movement. Maybe it’s the first thing that ever fit. It makes me feel big and powerful. Not just big.
Sometimes I catch Andrew staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking. Like he’s seeing someone who isn’t there. Maybe I remind him of someone. Maybe he sees the girls I lost. I wonder if he ever wishes he saved someone else instead. Why am I so difficult.
I don't want to be.
I woke up from a nightmare and found myself outside, underwater. Didn’t remember walking there. The salt calms me now. The cold doesn’t bite as much anymore. Maybe I’m becoming more shark than girl. Maybe that would be okay sometimes.
When Andrew was out, I saw some nearby Cerberus Co dredging ships. I wonder what they're doing out here?
I found an old sketchbook in storage. I tried drawing her. It didn’t look like her. Maybe I’m forgetting. I don’t want to forget. I couldn't. Right?
I almost beat him today. I had him grappled, and I started to laugh when he was fully stuck.
I had him!
But when I laughed he used that to twist out, and punch me right in the side.
I was frozen, and then we both laughed.
I haven't laughed that hard in so long. He hugged me after.
I tried to put him in a headlock. It didn't work.
We called truce after that.
He doesn’t visit as much. Says “missions,” or “too dangerous.”
He’s lying. I can feel it. Something’s wrong. He’s pulling away. I don’t know why.
It hurts.
I miss him. I miss them.
Andrew finally came around, asked me if I wanted to help him train a batch of new recruits. Of course I offered. I just wanted to be with him for a while longer. But he left pretty shortly after.
I guess these people are with Cerberus Co. Some sort of dredge team. Why would they need combat experience? A couple of the people there were nice to me at least, Ethan and Emily.
They were cool, I guess.
I led that training op today. They didn’t know I used to cry myself to sleep in the hangar closet. They think I’m tough. That I was born this way. If only they knew.
Ethan and Emily came around again. It had been a few days since I saw anyone. It's nice to have friends. I like Ethan, he's a good guy. A little weird, but that's cool. I can see why Emily likes him.
Ethan sent me this in the mail. I laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. Who the fuck thinks of this shit?
He hasn’t come back. It’s been months. I keep waiting. I keep pretending I don’t care.
But I leave the comms open just in case.
I got angry with Ethan today. I got so mad, and maybe I was a little drunk, and I punched a hole right through a car's hood.
He just -
Doesn't love himself like he should.
He's visited maybe twice this year. 4 times last year. He'll probably only visit once next year.
At least I have contracts to fill up my time. Vox does a pretty good job at covering what he does, so it's kinda like I'm there with him.
Kinda.
I’ve flipped back through these pages. Read my own grief. My own growth. I don’t recognize that scared little girl anymore. And I don’t know what good writing this still does. I mean there's over 300 entries in here.
Maybe I’ve said all I needed to say. Maybe it’s time to stop. Maybe I’ll pick it up again. But not today. I’m done journaling.