You didn’t know why it happened. That feeling of cold fury bubbling up in your stomach, spilling over like a pot of boiling water without a lid. It was like a switch flipping. There was no build-up or gradual simmer. None of the reasons ever made sense. You were just angry. You didn’t know how to control it.

“You alright?” Ghost asks as he takes the seat next to you on the bench. The cool evening air bites at your skin, like a balm to your restless soul. “You ripped into that recruit pretty good. Poor kid looked terrified.”

You stay silent for a long moment, hands stuffed into your pockets.

“I hate getting angry like that…” you whisper.

“But I’m starting to realize that…” You sigh, looking away from him. He doesn’t push you, or rush whatever it is you’re trying to say. He just waits. “This rage… The fire… It’s in my blood. I think I might always be this way. Mad at everything.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the sky for a beat before speaking so quietly he has to lean in to hear you.

“I’m starting to realize I’ll always be my father’s daughter.”