I finish the first page before I close the document, blinded by both fury and pain. I've written letters like this in counseling, letters that are never meant to be sent but are used as an exercise to express the emotions of the person writing them.
Fuck you, Katya.
My body is so tense, it aches, and my emotions boil over for a moment, paralyzing my ability to think. I stare at the screen, wanting to delete her email and erase her words, her very existence, from my mind.
How the fuck can she affect me when I'm halfway around the world? I haven't seen or spoken to her since she left midweek at camp. She has the power to reach out and obliterate the barrier I keep between my emotions and the rest of the world with a single email.
"Fuck!" My curse draws the eyes of half the center. I log out and rise, slamming my chair back under the desk before striding out.
It's hard to hate you when I know you're broken like Petr. The words have stayed with me. She may be right about me being broken, but she's wrong about hating me.
It's clear she does. Always has.
Why does that shred me as much as anything else I've been through?
"Hey, you okay?"
I don't realize I'm standing in the hallway, leaning my forehead against the wall, until I hear Harper's voice. Straightening, I gaze at her. She appears alarmed and concerned.
"You need to talk about something?"
There's no way to explain what's in my head, especially since I have no fucking clue how to sort out my thinking about Katya.
I just … Want. Her. Gone.
So I can think, function … fuck - so I can breathe right whenever her name comes up! My body and my mind react to her in a way I can't control.
"I don't want to talk," I tell Harper, refocusing on my surroundings. "If your other offer is on the table …" Something has to fix this.
Harper nods, studying me.
"I'll get cleaned up." I stride away, towards the showers. I try to tell myself this has nothing to do with trying to forget Katya.
But it does. She's physically out of my life. I need to get her out of my head.
After a quick shower, I sit down in the closet-sized tiny quarters that are mine. I don't share with anyone, because of my rank. My head hurts, and my body is sore. I'm exhausted and wired, a sign I won't be able to sleep, if I don't take Harper up on her offer.