Chapter 9
To: Charlotte Jackson [email protected]
From: William Kavanagh [email protected]
Subject: Memories [unsent draft]
S parkles,
Have you ever felt so dirty that it wouldn’t matter how many showers you took, you’d never feel clean again? I think my eyeballs are the only part of me not covered in mud. You’d probably laugh at how ridiculous I look.
God, what I wouldn’t give to see your smile right now.
The worst part is, I’m tired. So fucking exhausted I can’t get myself to the hose to wash off. Yeah, we literally have a hose outside our camp to keep from ruining the showers in the barracks.
It’s in these quiet moments that I think back to the day I signed up for the Marines. I never imagined I’d be deployed in this heat-oppressed country, crawling through the mud to do recon on a target we haven’t been able to pin down yet.
At the same time, I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
Joining up allowed me to escape the ghosts of my past. Those memories cling to me as hard as the mud on my skin.
Unfortunately for me, I can’t wash those off as easily.
They’re always going to be a part of me, no matter what I do.
It’s one of the many reasons I can’t afford to send this email to you.
You’re a bright spot in the distance. I want to reach out to you, but I know the minute I do, my shadows will put out your light.
I’d rather die than drag you down into the mud I live in every day.
-T