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"You make me feel....you make me feel. And I hate it. I want it to stop."
𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚
As Delalieu led me through the base, we stopped outside a door marked with my last name. I could sense his nervousness. He opened it to reveal a sparsely furnished but comfortable room, complete with two neatly made beds and a small desk.
I stepped inside, taking in the simple surroundings with a mixture of feelings.
Oh, I see.
They didn't expect me to be a woman, and now he's reconsidering all his decisions. I smile even though I know I shouldn't, it's not funny, I try to remind myself. But I don't understand how they overlooked the fact that I'm a female soldier, it literally says so on my record. Is it that bad here?
It doesn't even seem like a problem to me to share a room with a male soldier, it wouldn't be the first time. As long as he doesn't snore.
At least I have a desk.
"Here you are, Skywalker," Delalieu states with an awkward nod. "Your quarters for the duration of your stay." he stops, like he wants to add something but doesn't know how "I could talk to Mr. Warner into giving you your own space, you know, for a better... concentration." he finally says.
I try not to laugh when I say, "This suggests no problem to me, sir, but thank you for your consideration."
Shortly after that awkward moment, Delalieu led me to meet Warner in his office. It wasn't difficult to find, especially because the hall was guarded by what seemed like a million soldiers.
As we walked through the halls of the base, I could feel their eyes on me, their curiosity palpable like a weight pressing down on my shoulders. I notice the shift in energy around me. It's as if an invisible current sweeps through the air, sparking whispers and sideways glances in my direction.
I've grown accustomed to the curious stares of my male comrades. Some are overt in their interest, their eyes lingering a moment too long, while others try to mask their fascination with casual conversation. It's a dance I've become well-practiced in, navigating the unspoken dynamics of being a female soldier in a predominantly male environment.
Their gazes were a mix of intrigue and entitlement, as if they saw me not as a fellow soldier, but as an object of desire or conquest. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, to be scrutinized in such a way, to feel like I was being evaluated not for my skills or dedication, but for my gender.At first, their attempts at charm and flirtation were almost laughable. They seemed to believe that a few smooth words and a suggestive smile would be enough to win me over, as if they saw me as nothing more than a prize to be won. It was both amusing and disheartening to witness their misguided attempts at intimacy, their confidence buoyed by the mistaken belief that they had a chance.
