Burn for Me (Chaotic Love)

2. Two

Two

8-20-2024

We're all just pawns in someone else's game.

-Jasmine

It’s beautiful up here. Miles of concrete, filled with walkways and guard towers, line the outer edge of the base, offering a perfect ocean view. The light breeze carries sea salt through the air, filling my nose, as the sun casts soft hues of red and orange across the water.

This place is my favorite and worst nightmare, reminding me that I'm trapped—trapped by my past and by Depth, or whatever it's called now. Even though many people surround me, I still feel alone; no one truly understands me, despite their assumptions.

What’s the point of correcting them? We’re all just pawns in someone else's game.

Although my story remains unvoiced, I've listened to many others around me. This place represents their hope, a second chance at life. I lean against the ledge, the jagged rocks pressing into my skin as I admire the dark sky. I never envisioned myself as a soldier, yet here I am, lying in a grave meant for someone else. The first tower beams its light across the beach, revealing the expanse where sand meets the ocean, and boardwalks hide behind dry grass.

“Jasmine, I was told to relieve you.” Laura pushes her large framed glasses up her nose as she steps beside me. Though she's just a medic, her military background earns her the trust to step in when needed.

“Is there a reason I'm being pulled?” I ask, glancing at the water.

“Tide said you have a briefing in the morning. He needs you and Sam fully focused.”

I scoff; I know the real reason is because of what happened last time I was out here. I don’t blame Tide for not trusting me–I’ve made mistakes.

“Just a little longer,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the breeze brushing dry grass against the stone bottom.

“Have a little hope, doll. It won't be too bad out there, and at least you’ll have Sam with you for your first mission,” Laura chirps. She's right; it won't be too bad.

It’ll be awful —especially with him breathing down my neck. Sam is terrifying and intriguing, striking fear in everyone while drawing them in.

I nod despite my turmoil as she steps aside. I've done everything to avoid him—skipping meals and ducking into corners when I hear his footsteps. I want to check on him and ensure he’s okay, but he’s made it very clear that I’m not needed. I’m at a loss no matter what, so the only thing left that I know to do is obey his orders. It’s not easy, especially since he’s the only one who makes me feel... normal.

I don’t have to pretend around him.

Well, at least I don't have to pretend all the time. Some days, he tries to dig into my deepest, darkest thoughts, completely unaware that I was raised by a man who gathers information for a living. I know how to deflect questions with just one interaction. A simple flutter of my lashes or a subtle pout captures his attention, diverting him from what's really on his mind.

I may feel guilty about my manipulative behavior, but I don’t regret it. I thrive on the ghost of a smirk I catch when I say something bold and how his bottom lip pulls between his teeth when torn between indulging me or turning away. On other days, I don’t mind my tactics as much, especially when his face is hard as steel, and his words are sharp enough to get under my skin.

Despite what people think, Sam and I aren’t a couple. We tease each other, and he keeps me grounded, but it always ends the same: he pushes me away. He has good reasons—one chance, and I’d end up burning us both.

After his outburst earlier, it was probably wise for me to follow his orders. It was like he was there physically, but mentally, he was gone. I don’t know how long I stood there calling his name after Tide yelled at me not to touch him. I couldn't help it, though; it was mesmerizing.

I have seen Sam get violent plenty of times before. You call him when an intense interrogation is needed, but he is typically restrained and composed during those moments. Today, however, he was unhinged, with bared teeth and bulging veins under the tattoos on his arms as he fought to maintain some semblance of control.

I never intended to pursue Jeremy; he's open about his history. When he joined our team, I knew of his crimes and the victims, but I needed more information, and the best sources are those released from prison—they have nothing to lose.

I train like a killer and act like a seasoned criminal, but I’ve never done anything that could harm anyone—physically, at least. I’m not good, but I'm not bad either. Taking a deep breath, I cough at the smoke coming from the tower where Laura is leaning with a cigarette perched between her lips. I hate that smell.

I pull out my pen and pad, ready to jot down my thoughts, when a staticky voice from a camera interrupts.

“You received your orders.”

I roll my eyes and slump my shoulders. For a moment, I consider continuing my cold shoulder, but the insufferable voice at the back of my head tells me that if I keep ignoring him, he’ll discard me as everyone else in my life has.

This is my problem. I give and give until I feel like a walking corpse—hollow and empty, with nothing to show for it.

“I’m pretty sure you received the same ones, didn’t you?” I purr, and the camera crackles, but no words come out. Of course, he didn’t.

“It’s sweet you’re concerned about my beauty rest, but I don’t have anyone to tuck me in, so I’ll just enjoy the view.” I tease while focusing on my paper. Laura tries to muffle her laughter with a cough as I poke my hips out and lean over my writing with a little wiggle.

“I'm not tucking you in, but you can sit with me.” His rough words make my shoulders tense. I’d love to watch him lose himself in schedules, but I don’t need to. If I were there, I’d memorize every detail on those screens, noting how one brow pulls in when he sees something off. Instead, I shut my pad and gaze at the stars shimmering on the waves.

“It’s getting dark, Sam,” I say lightly, stepping towards the exit as jagged stones fill my boots. My fingers trail the cold stone walls until I reach the bottom, revealing the outdoor training area, sprawling with sparring mats and equipment.

“The stars are getting their chance to shine.” Sam’s voice carries from the competition course, enough for me to hear but muffled for anyone else.

Sam isn’t good or bad; maybe that’s why I’m drawn to him. I don’t want to know his past; the less I know, the better—if only he felt the same.

“Oh, come on! I was right; I just worded it wrong!” An aggravated, raspy voice yells, catching me off guard.

Moe thrashes under Tide's hold on the sparring mat, reminding me of my sister. I shake the thought away.

“First thing in the morning! Don’t be late!” Tide calls as I head through the thick door of our base. I respect him despite our past. I messed up when I took advantage of an opportunity after his mission against the enemy team.

He never outright called me out for my ill-timed questions, but I can tell he doesn’t trust me. I’ve only made things worse over the years, yet he hasn’t kicked me out.

Thank God because I'd never survive in a cell.

I tug at the hem of my shirt as I approach my quarters. My uniform drives everyone crazy when it’s out of place, but it feels wrong to wear it. I bump into someone and glance over.

“Seeing you in the morning?” Sharkie asks, and I stop fidgeting. We didn't start off well either, but lately, she hasn't tried to stab me. She's actually kind of cool if you overlook her violent tendencies.

“You got it, Shark,” I smirk at her annoyance over the nickname, but my smile fades; I know I’ll probably screw up our potential friendship too. A door shuts, capturing my attention, but whoever it is has already slipped inside.

I didn't witness the first war's chaos but saw its impact on our world. Cities were built, destroyed, and rebuilt, yet most people have moved on from the idea of near-world domination during the Chaos War. Media has distracted the public with celebrity drama, making it easier to conceal the past. Still, some hold on to that knowledge like water for a fire.

“Keep walking, little devil. You need that beauty rest.”

I scoff at the voice coming from a blinking red dot at the end of the hall.

“Don’t we all?” Sharkie grumbles as she swiftly exits toward her private quarters.

“I believe this is considered stalking,” I call out, tilting my head to ease the tension in my shoulders as I pull my key card from my fatigues.

“Observing,” Sam corrects, but I step into my room, appreciating the calming scenery I’ve tailored to my liking, and shut the door before he can argue further.

Instead of the task force's signature olive green interior, I chose dark gray walls that highlight my maroon bedspread and wooden furniture. Being secluded eases my tension, but the thought of going home remains daunting.

I open my nightstand drawer and toss my notepad on my father's letters. No matter how much I try to convince myself that I did the right thing, I still feel a sense of wrongness. I thought I could accept my purgatory, so I cut off communication with my father and took my responsibilities seriously. My gaze briefly drifts to the vanity, but I can't bear to look at the woman staring back at me—she feels fake and represents the downfall of everything I’ve learned to love.

As I've said before, it feels like we’re all just pieces in a complicated game, moving based on unseen decisions by an unknown player.