Surrera One Shots 👩🏽❤️👨🏾‍🦲

Not Anymore

"Andy... I - I think it's best if you... go."
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3 months later
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The team were doing the workout in the barn under the captain's orders for the second time today thanks to Miller's lateness. Well, most of them were anyway. Andy, stubborn as every (although rightfully so in this case) refused. She hates every last part of the job these days. The busting through walls, the shooting down flames - none of it made her feel the way it used to. Instead, she felt a pit in her stomach. A constant ache, a hole. Name it however you'd like, but to Andy, it felt like the world was coming to an end. She walked along the corridor in long strides, her wet hair dripping as she made headway towards the fiery red doors ahead of her. She didn't want to eat, she knew she probably couldn't, but she also knew she should or someone would find out. She swung the door to the beanery open and moved straight towards the sink. Grabbing a clear, plastic mug off of the shelf, the brunette proceeded to turn on the tap. While she waited for the water to cool, she opened the fridge door. Nothing seemed appealing. Just as she was about to shut it, she felt a gust of air blow towards her, sending a shiver over her damp skin. She looked up to see somebody walk in, catching their gaze as she narrowed her eyes in spite before hacking and turning away again. She slammed the grey fridge door shut and grabbed her cup, pivoting to face the exit then beginning to stride out of the room.
"You know Herrera, you really should eat something." Came the booming voice from the far corner of the room. It was him.
"What did you say?" She turned around in disbelief, staring deep into his soul. He stayed silent.
"Huh?" She asked again, "you gave up the right to tell me what choices to make the day, the minute, the second you told me to leave. Do you understand that, because if you don't, I don't think I can stay here much longer?" Her voice was loud, hoarse too.
"I'm sorry - " he almost continued, but cut himself off, taking another second to think through what he was about to say to the fiery woman stood before him.
"It's just - "
"What?"
"I still care, don't you?" He prodded.
"Wow." She was almost laughing.
"You still care? Huh. Didn't think you cared at all. Didn't think you wanted to speak to me. To know me. Maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong, but care? That's a bit of a stretch don't you think? And to actually physically have the audacity to ask if I still care? I can't believe you. No. The answer is no." She watched his face drop more and more with every passing word.
"No I don't care, I can't care, not anymore." Her words stung him like bees.
"But why?" His voice was weak now, on the verge of cracking.
"Why?" She was mad. So mad. "Why?" She asked again in disbelief.
"You really wanna know? It's because if I don't care, I think maybe I can hold myself together, just long enough to make in through the hour, through the day or maybe through the shift. Just long enough to make it through my front door before I hurt so much I can't move, or feel so sick I can't eat, or drink, or that it's hard to breathe. Just long enough to make it to the safety and privacy of my own home before another tiny little part of me gets killed, or dies and I think I can't survive any longer. I have nothing, nothing, you know that? But what do I have if I care? I'd have someone who I love, who I can't have. Who I need. Who I want so badly my world crumbles around me every time I have to be near them, in the same room as them, look at them, or take their orders and follow them as if everything's okay to protect them. Their job. Because if anybody knew they would get fired, and it would all be my fault, because everything wrong in everybody's life is my fault. I'd have memories of that one night. I'd have memories of a friendship. I'd have sadness. I'd have hatred. I'd have nothing. Worse than nothing, I'd have all the pain, all the anger, all the anguish and the disappointment that comes along in a broken little package with a broken little heart, covered in a cute little wrapping paper and tied up in a neat little pink bow that looks just so pretty, so that it looks perfect. So that nobody can see how destroyed the gift is inside. So does that answer your question? Yeah? Does it look like I care? No."
She swivelled and stormed out of the beanery, tears falling down her face, the walls being build higher and higher around her.
"Andy!" He called after her.
She muttered to herself 'no' and carried on stepping straight towards her bunk. She couldn't do it anymore, she couldn't think, she couldn't feel. She needed to leave.
As she reached the door, she saw it cracked open, ajar. And she could see shadows moving around inside. She grabbed the handle with might and yanked it open, rolling her eyes at the sight of what was inside. Her stomach flipped and she had had enough. She couldn't deal with any more that day.
"Joe! Out!" She bellowed at the scraggy man in-front of her.
"But-"
"Out! Now! Before I call the captain!" She threatened.
"I'm-" he stammered.
"Nope, not today, you know I don't care what you do, go to someone else's bunk for all I care, but this is mine, and I need it right now, so go."
She slammed the door as he scrambled for his things and left. As she slid slowly down the wooden frame, a wail left her mouth.
"I-I don't... care" tears streamed down her face - she had nothing. No-one. Not anymore.