Home For Fall // Emison and PLL

Deployment : Day 273

Whoever's reading this. I don't know who. I have been tracking the Taliban best I can thanks to Arji. Every time I kill one of them, he tattoos my arm. It's been an exchange each. I pay for information with money and a tattoo, and he gives me what I want.

We've infiltrated at least seven camps. I've anonymously tipped the army off with every bit of information Arji gives me. The death toll on my shoulders is above 80. It has to be. And yet. I don't feel a damn thing. What a blessing, but also a curse.

Is it truly this possible to feel so inhuman? So angry? I don't flinch when I pull a trigger anymore. I live to pull the trigger.

Emily stopped writing and angrily snapped her pencil, sending splinters flying across the tent.

Before Meyers was sent home, he sat in the infirmary on the edge of his bed in his civilian clothing.

Emily was standing in the corner, her arm still bandaged from the many tattoos dug into her skin. Starting from the top of her arm was a large beautiful blue mermaid with flowing blonde hair and a silver trident in her hands. By her head rest a very realistic tattoo of a compass pointing towards the ends of the earth. All down Emily's arm underneath the mermaid were countless waves, fish, and some of the most beautiful ships. It was as if Emily had the entire ocean in the palm of her hand, so to speak.

The mermaid had been inspired by Alison. Emily had no doubt about it. But she never admitted that to Arji no matter how many times he asked.

Meyers had stared at Emily's heavily muscled arm and shook his head in annoyance. "I really hope you don't get any more."

"I'm going to find them. Arji is helping me. He knows where the Taliban is. No matter where they move," Emily had said.

"You're losing your mind, Fields," Meyers had stated.

Emily stared at him incredulously. "I'm only doing what you wanted me to do, Lieutenant."

"No, you're becoming a solider who has no problem with taking people's lives. You're taking too many lives. When I said 'let it click', I meant don't be such a pussy. Take a life and get over it because that's your job. You're out here to fight and protect. Not become addicted to spilling human blood!" Meyers yelled.

A couple of the medics in the infirmary had looked in on them suspiciously. Emily chuckled.

"I'm not addicted to killing."

"Then what the hell's wrong with you?" Meyers had said. "You're becoming a monster. The Fields I knew was afraid to kill a goddamn mosquito."

Emily just stared down at her boots. He couldn't have possibly been right. She wasn't a killer. She certainly didn't enjoy it. Did she?

Emily laid on her cot and reminisced on the day Meyers left. In a way, she envied him. He got to go home to the people he loved. To the woman he loved. But of course it came with a price. Half his face, and half his life were left behind in the scorching Afghanistan desert.

She was the only one in her unit left. Whether it be dead or alive. It felt so weird to be alone. She tried to breathe evenly and concentrate on anything other than the anger she had in her head.

"A lot of you will be heading to Afghanistan. You will be fighting among the world's most powerful military unit. Take pride in this! But also remember. Some of you will die. There's no guarantee you'll come back alive. And there's no guarantee that if you do come back alive, it'll be in one piece! It's better to start expelling all of those large hopes before they bury you in the dry Afghani soil," her drill sergeant said once all of the girls had crowded around their bunks.