Guerreiro Tavares trained half of his life to be in a mercenary guild. Assassinated people and served criminals. A corpsman when he was in the Navy SEAL but perplexed when he was mandated to watch over a woman in a vegetative state.
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I HAD a love-hate relationship with deep waters; pools or ocean as what I commonly encounter. I love how it tests my strength and how I think straight whenever it is fucking arduous and hopeless to survive a situation.
Because hell, when I was training to be a SEAL, the officers were always attempting to kill us and I mean it. All of us know it. That's why as high as eighty percent quit.
Every single time when I was underwater when I was new, I had the thoughts that it would be my last breath.
That's what I felt, especially the first months. Always sabotaging our plans to succeed. I understand. It's frustrating as hell initially because I hate it when things don't go as I expected.
My main rules were the first ones that were broken when I commenced training.
Whenever things are not going according to my plans, I always need to succeed no matter what the changes are.
Calmness in a situation wherein any human being will be filled with anxiety is a rare skill and fucking strenuous to attain. Even if I don't like it, there are circumstances that I can't apply it myself and failure slaps me so hard on the face.
There is no way there will be no damage after every training session. Physically and mentally. Nothing weighs more than the other.
Some were just performing it in order for us to improve and challenge our dedications. Others were doing it because they enjoy it and because they have a grudge for whatever reason.
Fists, kicks, and shouts near our ears were our meals.
Before I was enlisted at nineteen, I was aware we would get to select a specialization. However, I was indecisive. I have no idea what to choose.
There are benefits and disadvantages for every specialty and I need to be wise where I know what I'm doing. I wanted to contemplate everything for the fact that I don't want to regret it.
When I witnessed all the injuries, minor and major, I chose to be a medic.
It was in the news that there's rain coming this afternoon. Perfect for my last day here. I can't believe I endured two weeks here like a normal person; performing not normal things I must say.
I quickly drive myself to the nearest sea. Still, it took me over two hours because of traffic. When I arrived, the whole horizon was cloaked with darkness albeit it is only three; the cumulonimbus clouds were like enormous monsters that would devour anything that it shadowed.
The location was not entirely black but a fossil shade of gray. It commenced to drizzle and I turned on the wiper. I bypassed the area where there are people and continued to drive until I found a spot that is completely isolated.
My eyebrows drew together, still not satisfied, I went even farther so no one could see me.
This is still a public space though. There's not a lot of people because of the weather. Thank fuck. I pulled over, took my shirt off and folded it neatly on the shotgun. I removed my seatbelt and waited until the rain poured heavily.
