She Was Just A Child (PART 2)

CHAPTER 28: SHADOWS OF DETACHMENT

Dian paced the cold corridors of the KorTac base, her gaze fixed on the sterile walls as she tried to shut out the turmoil swirling in her mind. The events of the past few days had left her feeling raw, torn open in a way she hadn’t expected. The jealousy, the rage, the painful attachment she felt toward Rustam—all of it made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

She turned a corner and froze as her eyes landed on a young couple from the base, laughing and leaning close to each other. The sight made her stomach churn with a sudden wave of revulsion, her chest tightening with something between anger and disgust. She could barely stand to look at them—the way they smiled at each other, their hands entwined, their expressions soft and open.

Weak, she thought bitterly. They’re all so weak.

Everywhere she looked, it seemed like people were wrapped up in emotions, tangled in each other’s lives. She used to crave that, used to feel the same pull. But now, after everything that had happened, she wondered if she had been deluding herself. Rustam’s betrayal, the suffocating pain of unrequited feelings, the way Amara’s presence twisted her mind into a storm—none of it had brought her peace. If anything, emotions had only made her more fragile, more breakable.

As she watched the couple, her disgust grew. How foolish they were, smiling and leaning into each other, unaware of how easily those emotions could be weaponized, could twist into something dark and consuming. She felt the familiar pull of her psychopathy, the dark voice inside her whispering that maybe she had been right all along—emotions are nothing but a weakness.

With her fists clenched, she turned away from them, her jaw tight. She continued down the hall, her thoughts spiraling as she replayed Zero One’s words in her head. He had said that she was like him, that she was meant to be cold, calculating, devoid of the messiness of human emotions. Back then, she had fought it, clung to the belief that she could be different, that she could experience something normal. But now, after everything, she wasn’t so sure.

As she walked, she passed another couple—two soldiers sitting close together, their laughter echoing softly in the empty hall. She felt a wave of disgust rise in her throat, and she had to fight the urge to say something, to lash out and tell them how pointless their connection was. Emotions made people weak and gave them something to lose. And for what? A fleeting feeling that left nothing but pain in its wake.

Why would anyone choose this?

She clenched her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to rid herself of the bitterness festering inside her. She thought of Rustam, of the way he had looked at Amara, the way he had brushed Dian aside like she was nothing. He had let her down and made her vulnerable, and she hated herself for ever wanting more from him.

Maybe Zero One had been right. Maybe emotions were a burden, a weakness that only served to hurt people in the end.

She slipped into the empty training room, the familiar, sterile space quiet and devoid of people. It was a refuge, a place where she could block out the noise of her thoughts and focus on something she understood—control. Power. Precision.

Dian went through her drills with ruthless efficiency, each movement calculated, her focus laser-sharp. The physical exertion helped to drown out the rage simmering within her, but it couldn’t erase the gnawing thoughts that plagued her mind.

What if I let it go? she wondered, her breaths coming in sharp bursts. What if I stopped caring?

The idea was liberating, a cold, clear thought that cut through the chaos like a blade. Emotions had brought her nothing but suffering. She had wanted Rustam’s affection, craved his attention, but all it had done was weaken her, make her vulnerable. But if she could let go of those feelings and free herself from the weight of it all, maybe she would finally find peace.

She stopped mid-movement, her fists still raised as she stared at her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Her own eyes stared back at her, dark and unreadable. She saw herself as she had become—detached, cold, a person molded by the desire to protect herself from further pain.

Emotions are a weakness, she reminded herself, the thought becoming a mantra in her mind. They make people fragile and easy to break.

Zero One’s face flashed in her mind, his voice echoing through her thoughts. You were made for this, he had said. To be powerful, to be untouchable.

Maybe she had been resisting who she truly was. Maybe she was meant to be someone different—someone who didn’t rely on others, who didn’t get caught up in attachments that only served to break her down.

She finished her drills and left the training room, her mind clearer, her resolve hardening. She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t erase what had happened with Rustam, but she could change herself. She could become stronger and let go of the parts of herself that made her vulnerable.

Dian moved through the base with a new sense of purpose, ignoring the couples, the laughter, and the soft touches exchanged between people who hadn’t yet seen the ugly side of emotions. She was above it now, above the petty needs that had once driven her. She had no use for it.

As she reached her quarters, she glanced down at her phone, the string of unanswered messages to Rustam glaring back at her like a wound that hadn’t healed. Without hesitation, she deleted them all, erasing every trace of him from her device. The satisfaction was immediate, the symbolic act a final release.

This was who she was now. Cold. Detached. She didn’t need anyone. And maybe, just maybe, that was a kind of strength no one else could understand.

As she lay in bed that night, staring up at the dark ceiling, a sense of calm settled over her. She didn’t need to feel, didn’t need to care. She would embrace the emptiness, the stillness within her that didn’t ache or yearn. Emotions were for the weak, the fragile. And she was stronger than that.

A strange, chilling peace washed over her as she closed her eyes. She could finally breathe again, free from the weight of longing and attachment. She had made her choice, and there was no turning back.