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I failed at the gun range today. I doesn't matter if I was coaxed in or not, the fear still overtook me as I stood in front of the door. What if the moment had been crucial? What if I'd had to defend myself or, worse, had to defend others? I can't even pick up my gun anymore, not without freezing and remembering the things I've done, the lives I've taken, the people I've failed. I went to the club today to confront my fears and I stood there, afraid.
I am a coward. If I were home, my faction wold tell me to leave.
The thought haunts me as I reenter the Bramford Building. The gun is still in my waistband because I couldn't bear to remove it.
Sinking down on the steps, I feel the cool stone beneath me and close my eyes. I don't want to go up. My neighbors are loud and in love and I can't pretend not to hear it.
So I pick up the broken broom handle that someone just left on the ground. Stand up, I tell myself. Stand up and raise the broomstick, hold it like a sword the way that Porthos taught me.
Practice.
Be brave.
I am a coward. If I were home, my faction wold tell me to leave.
The thought haunts me as I reenter the Bramford Building. The gun is still in my waistband because I couldn't bear to remove it.
Sinking down on the steps, I feel the cool stone beneath me and close my eyes. I don't want to go up. My neighbors are loud and in love and I can't pretend not to hear it.
So I pick up the broken broom handle that someone just left on the ground. Stand up, I tell myself. Stand up and raise the broomstick, hold it like a sword the way that Porthos taught me.
Practice.
Be brave.
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