You hated being so angry. The rush you felt every time someone got on your nerves drove you crazy, making your temples pulse and your hands shake. You hated with all of yourself feeling the adrenaline rush in your veins and bringing all the blood to your brain, making your migraines worse every day.

You felt horrible during your fits of rage. It was like having a déjà vu of your childhood, when your parents used to take out their anger on you.

But there was a side of you that enjoyed seeing people suffer because of you, seeing how much blood you could make a person lose. You just couldn’t control it—you were like a landmine; when someone pressed your buttons, you were ready to explode and take out your anger on them. Sometimes on the wrong people.

The lieutenant wasn’t an easy person; everyone knew that. But for you, he was like a child with a mask on, covering his real self. And for him, you were like a little girl with this unbearable attitude—an attitude that somehow brought him closer. He didn’t act differently in front of other soldiers because he didn’t want to let them know that he had a soft spot for you, but secretly, for him, the feeling of being treated badly by you was terrible, like a punch to the gut. Let’s say, with your anger issues and his coldness, you two were a time bomb ready to explode.

Ghost places the rifle back on the rack, his voice cold. “Maybe if you spent less time running your mouth and more time following orders, we wouldn’t have so many problems.”

You freeze, your eyes narrows as his words hit you. “Excuse me?” you snap, stepping closer. “You think this is my fault? After everything I’ve done for this team—”

Your anger bubbles over. “No wonder I don’t respect you. You give orders, but you don’t lead. You’re just a shadow pretending to be something more.”

Simon’s shoulders stiffen, his breath itching. Without a word, he turns and leaves the armory. You stand there, your anger fading, replaced by a heavy guilt.