I walk back into the church, and then back into Sigmund’s office. This time, my stride-and my energy-are far calmer, though I still feel a considerable disdain for the old man. I drop myself into a chair, staring at Sigmund across the desk. “So, what did you want to say to me this time?”
“I need to explain something to you. I never wanted or meant to use you as some disposable pawn, of course not, that would be a massive waste of your potential. I was testing you, setting you up so you could become our leader. After all, I won’t be around forever.”
As much as I hated to admit it, what he said made sense. Still, I was mad, but probably not for the reasons he presumes. “Setting me up, indeed, so I could discover how horrible I really am in the dark. All because I was thrown to the head of the pack, all because I was told to take lead, I discovered how horrible of a person I really am. I don’t want to tell you how many horrible things I did, but I did horrible things and got recruits killed left and right! You think you do, but you don’t really want me running the show; I know
they
wouldn’t want me.” An inhale, an exhale. I try to still my heart. “I’m not nearly as good as you think I am.”
“Nonsense, June. You rose to the occasion and you made important decisions that saved so many more of my recruits in the process. You were forced to make difficult decisions under terrifying circumstances, and you always delivered, and what’s more than that, you ultimately ended the threat when so many others likely would’ve failed.” Sigmund smiled. “To be honest, if you were my daughter, I’d be proud of you.”
I cannot explain why, but that last line left a sting in my heart.
No, you wouldn’t. Not if you knew what I’ve done, not if you knew about the people I’ve turned on and the rest of my past.
I felt a certain indignation and heartache that I simply swallowed down. A breath in, a breath out. “I understand your opinion, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with it. The fact is, that this figurehead shit is taking me down a road I have no interest in going down. I know you’ve been eager to find a worthy successor, and that you really got your hopes up for me, but I’m just not it.”
Sigmund frowned deeply, looking down at the desk, and then back at me. I could see it in his eyes; this was a pretty big let-down for him. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”
“No.” I stand up, seeing myself out of the office, and closing the door behind me. I’m not sure what exactly he saw in me, aside from my apparent resilience, that made him think I was a worthy, much less willing successor.
As I sat in my room later that day, I thought on how the hell he thought it was a good idea to throw me in the line of fire, of all people. I could only guess that he was sick of being lonely up top after what happened all those years ago, sick of being the last and only one holding the hill, and sick of losing people that already mattered to him.
The darker reaches of my mind steer my attention towards me, and however the hell I could’ve done all the terrible things I’ve already done, and it was then I came across another realization:
Everyone is a product of their pain.
‘Even me’, I think to myself as I stare down at my hands.
Especially me.
Memories of my far past flash and whip out at me. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that I’ve had it worse than most.
But I can’t use that as an excuse.
As much as I’ve evaded the grief so far, I still haven’t forgiven myself yet. I feel the tears come, scratching at the walls, waiting to be let out. I won’t let them escape; my focus should be on how I can make things better. I’m interrupted by the buzz of my phone as I pull it out, glancing at the text. Teller wanted to get the rest of Dirty Diamond to meet again, and I remembered how good music was at holding the stresses of real life at bay, if only for a moment.
It was then I realized there
was
a way I could at least hope to make the world a better place, and I had the right vehicle to do it. At least, if I could get the others on board with it.