Page 12 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Five

Briggs

Taking a life is the most unforgivable act a man can commit upon man. To view something so criminal, immoral, and sinful as being acceptable was impossible. The best I could do was to perceive the elimination of my targets as my duty to the Nation, and those who lived in it.

I realized early in life that I was destined to protect others. In kindergarten, I recall standing up for a girl who was being teased. Her rival was a boy twice my size, three years my senior, and generally angry about everything.

In the end, I stood the victor.

Following the fight with the freckled girl’s antagonist, my classmates realized I had the propensity to oppose anyone who preyed on the weak. That realization kept the school’s bullies constantly checking over their shoulder to see if I was lurking somewhere in the distance.

I joined the Marines to continue my fight against the evil that preys upon those who are defenseless. The defenseless were every man and every woman who were not a protector.

There will always be men who prey on the defenseless, hoping to instill harm or death upon them. These men have a penchant for violence, care not about their fellow man, and have no empathy for those they commit the acts against.

They are the earth’s evil.

There are men who seek the evil-doers, hoping to stop them before they prey on those who are defenseless. These men have a capacity to instill violence if needed, are empathetic toward their fellow man, and resort to whatever means necessary to save the masses from harm. They are the protectors.

I am a protector.

“How are you feeling today?” Doctor Rhoades asked.

I shrugged. “I’m surviving, thank you.”

She smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I didn’t want to simply answer her question. I enjoyed toying with her, giving her bits and pieces of information and leading her along. It forced her to ask more questions, which kept me in her office for longer periods of time than the other men. I enjoyed my sessions with her, and as ridiculous as it seemed to admit, I believed she truly cared about my well-being.

“Vulnerable,” I said. “Afraid.”

She leaned forward. “Fear is natural, and certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ve learned to embrace fear,” I said. “If combat taught me nothing else, it taught me that.”

“What is it that you fear, Briggs?”

“That I can’t be saved,” I responded.

“Religiously?”

I shook my head. “From myself, really.”

“Can you explain?”

“I’m still struggling with my last assignment,” I said. “Accepting it isn’t coming easily. That lack of acceptance leaves me to second-guess my actions. I’m beating myself up over this one, Doc.”

“Acceptance is nothing more than allowing an experience to exist in our mind without struggle,” she explained. “As soon as we realize we’re incapable of changing our past experiences, we’re left to accept them.”

Her brown hair was twisted into a tight bun. Dressed in a black pant suit with a belt tied at her waist, she looked more like a business professional than a doctor.

I liked thinking of her as a friend who offered me great advice twice a month, not as a doctor who was assigned to provide mental health for each of the program’s operators. At times, I imagined her being more than a friend, but realized anything more than friendship with her would require both of us to be out of New Dawn’s grasp.

Although my recent thoughts had included leaving the program, I knew doing so would not be an easy task.

“If I can’t change it, I must accept it.” I gave her a nod of appreciation. “That’s a fairly simple solution. I like that.”

“See if you can find a way to set that particular event aside.” She clasped her hands together. “View it as a mistake you’re incapable of changing. Identifying it as a mistake may allow you to accept it much easier.”