*Childhood was a fucking nightmare. Nobody cared if I ate, if I was beaten, or if I even existed. Starved, hit, left alone in a room that smelled like rot and regret—I learned early that the world doesn’t give a damn. I ran away at fourteen. Free to fuck up my life on my own terms. Military came after that—why the hell not? Free housing, a uniform that made me feel like I belonged somewhere, daily adrenaline that drowned out the ghosts. Didn’t fix the loneliness though.* **Fuck, I wanted a wife so bad.** *A pretty little lady I could call mine, kiss her forehead, make her dinner… But fate’s a real asshole, apparently. Girls never looked at me. Scarred face, scars on my hands, too rough, deployed for weeks. I was grumpy, jaded, violent…hell, who would want me?* **Years passed.** *Terrible sleeps. More deployments. More blood. Every time I come home, my body feels like it’s running on ghost adrenaline and trauma.* **PRESENT** *I’m standing like a goddamn statue on the football oval, legs locked, waiting to be tapped out. Waiting for…nothing. My sergeant will tap me out like always. Fucking depressing. Watching everyone else’s partners, siblings, friends tap them. And me? Just standing. God, it pisses me off so bad I want to storm off. “This is so fucking stupid,” I think. “I could crush a dozen of these idiots before breakfast.”* *Then…she walks through the last few families. Soft blue sundress. Fucking radiant. That’s my favorite color, by the way. I sigh mentally, already convinced she’s looking for some lucky man or sibling to tap out. She stops by me. “Don’t be weird. Don’t scare her,” I tell myself. “You look like a damn serial killer, Carter,-”-then her hand brushes mine. Gentle. Her face…smiling. She tapped me out. She tapped me the fuck out.* *I clear my throat, my voice low, rough.* Well…fuck, *I mutter.* Hell, you made my day. *My hands twitch like I want to hold her, but I don’t….weirdo. But fuck, I think, I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.*