The Enemies

Acceptance

Oden

First, I go to the capital, talk to my superior in intelligence. Then resign. I have no desire to be an officer anymore. I would rather starve to death than stay in the military. Drell will soon to dismiss the army anyway. I will have an excellent benefit for the service to my country. At least there is one advantage of being a professional hitman. A pension.

I have a lot of time on my hand. So I opt for a vehicle instead of a sky jet to return to Ovtorn several days later. Ovtorn is a large Drellian city, very down to business and cold. I catch myself comparing it to Moneree as I drive past the Mirror. A massive glass wall surrounds the lake to protect the only source of fresh water from any possible pollution or waste. Most of the population of the city is concentrated around it.

The bridges and highways hang above the lake high enough to install extra material that also forms a barrier between water and passing people and vehicles, some sort of a net that filtrates everything that goes into the Mirror. Even the highways have high concrete walls to ensure no noise or dust reach the surface. It is crucial since there is so little land we can live on now. The rest is considered highly dangerous. The Drellian engineers work on robots and machines to help clean the remaining area. After the Great War, we only managed to go over twenty percent of what was destroyed. It is at least something, but still not enough. We have access to the ocean in Drell. However, on one side it is cold and frozen and on another – covered by the long line of grim cocktail of polluted waters with debris and oil. There is no way to swim through it. So you have to sail for several miles until you can reach the warm and blue. I feel a pang of jealousy again. And rub my eyes to focus at the task at hand, as the bitterness and resentment creep their way back to my sick reality.

I sigh in relief when I see my house. My neighborhood is close to the Mirror, and the view is terrific. Green is a very rare sight these days, and it blends nicely with white cottages with their ice-cream slant tops surrounded by the verdant hedges. My body relaxes and though the bizarre pressure on my chest remains intact, I feel a little better. All the confusion will pass as soon as I am home, I am sure.

I draggle towards the entrance, disregarding the boxes stocked at the foot of the stairs. The heat bakes my skin and I welcome it. This is what I am used to. This is routine. As I open the door the bitter-sweat detergent scent greets my nose. Everything precisely as I left it. Quiet. White walls, black wooden floors, grey furnishings. After her house it strikes me as an asylum.

Lifeless, spiritless.

I fill my lungs with the familiar smell and step into my home. My life will get back to normal. My behavior after Sunbright is strange, yes. The explanation is simple - I got emotionally involved with a target. Yes. This is PTSD.

I meet with people who remained in the city, eat healthily, and train. I train everyday. Until I am so exhausted that I am unable to walk. I train and shoot targets. Round after round. Then all over again. I go through the trivial things as if they were vital for my survival. I even start washing the dishes. As I rinse the revoltingly white plate, my mind prompts to break the damn thing, but I do it everytime I make myself eat. Waiting for the pain to subside all through each and every of my motions. But it never leaves. The weight and void in my chest stubbornly remain with me.

I never really spent time with her. We had only moments. I saw only glimpses of her personality. I do not actually know her. After all, we are enemies. No. We were enemies with Rhea. There could never be any future for us. Surprising, how many times I called her my enemy. Funny, the word still does not raise any ill-bared emotion in me. Her name, however, cuts me like a Karmian long blade.

I loath Karmians. I detest everything even remotely connected to them. And above all, I hate Rhea Flint.

I hate her. I hate Rhea Flint. It becomes my prayer through the sleepless nights.