Oblivion {James Rodriguez} {Book ONE}

the beginning of the end

Forgiveness. I always had a hard time with forgiveness. Maybe it is the freshly-cut wound that I somehow tend to preserve, or maybe it is my hostile nature that seems to put off some people when I really mean no harm at all.

People do deserve second chances. I completely agree with that statement. But it is the circumstances in which you offer that second chance that matter. Do they dismissively throw in an apology? Do you guilt trip them into begging? Are they honestly apologizing because of their genuine sorrow, or are they the type of person to not respect your decision and insert themselves back into your life anyway?

For me, the inserting of Carter Adams is a huge, unexpected, unpleasant surprise. I had vowed to never lay eyes on him again. He had done the most horrible, shameful, foolish "accidental" act ever.

You see, men like Carter... They're not exactly normal men. They're highly skilled individuals who give up their entire world just to dedicate themselves to their field of work. They go through immense training from early in their childhood that will continue until retirement... Or in their case: death.

It's an extremely risky business that he operates in. They're constantly tested under high pressure environments that require excessive mental and physical co-operation.

These are the kind of people that teeter on the line of fire. These are the kind of people that should be completely immersed in their work that everything in the outside world should be blocked and ignored. They bid farewell to loved ones and complicate matters with families, they sacrifice their entire consciousness to protect themselves and the conducts they stand for. They are alarmingly patriotic to their careers.

And Carter was one of them. I remember it so clearly: every single day he would come back home at some peculiar hour of the night, exhausted and worn out from the day's activities. I would hear his quiet shuffles as he changed and crawled under the covers next to me. He used to always smell faintly of cologne and wind, which I oddly found solace in.

I would sleep facing away from him so he did not see how my eyes shot open in worry. It would have probably been half an hour since I dozed of to a real comfortable sleep as I would have stayed up all night leaving text messages and countless missed calls. He never used to inform me. He just... Vanished.

I would lay there in bed with my eyelids half closed, listening to the lulling sounds of his soft breathing. When I was sure he fell asleep, my tough facade would crumble and I would subconsciously move myself up to his side. I never wanted to let him know that I was terrified about what he does. That I secretly died inside every time his number went straight to voicemail.

All of this - and a one horrible event, played a major role in the slow but assured deterioration of our four-year-strong relationship. The anxiety, the expectations, the schedules, the danger... They all worsened everything. I was so close to giving up; so convinced that this was not the life I wanted. This was not what I bargained for. Loving him was like dangling from the edge of a skyscraper: you need to hold on as if your life depended on it, but the second you let go, you free fall. Which would be liberating if you didn't think about the fact that you'll be hitting the ground... Hard.

Katie was always there for me. Since the clueless days of kindergarten, she was there. Who knew an accidental shove, followed by a quick apology could initiate the beginning of a twenty-four year old friendship?

Through failed grades, break-ups, boys in general, high school drama, parent divorces, prom, college, graduation, drivers licenses, messy relationships... She's been there for me. Every single time. She was the only person in the world that was truly relevant and could be reached within six seconds. The bond we had shared was extremely unbreakable: not even the pettiest of fights or the longest of vacations could cease us. Not even the daunting circumstances of the day that everyone uses as an excuse.

You may be wondering: why am I referring to Katie in past tense? Where is Carter? And what the hell did he do?

All these questions will unfold themselves as I slowly narrate to you pieces of my occasionally mundane past. Carter, unfortunately, has now become a part of my present as well. I have no idea how it happened, and I certainly do not greet the unexpected
with cheer.

You will come to know who Carter Adams is, who I am, who was Katie, and what was this particular horrifying incident that changed all our fates - for the worst.

My name is Mia.

His name is Carter.

And this is our story.