6
It’s 8:17 p.m.
I put my phone on silent the moment I left HQ. Didn’t want to speak to any friends. All I’ve done since coming home is tell my parents the news of my failure, and listen to them struggle to find nice ways to say I told you so. But in the end, no matter how they dress it up, no matter how many sympathetic smiles I get, the bottom line is: they were right. Everyone was right. Everyone but me. Don’t know what I was thinking.
I thought shooting one of those Necs would have been the highlight of the day, the highlight of the training. My life. Not some stupid sack-pulling race. I didn’t even get the chance to celebrate taking the first one down with the tranq. I was too dazed for it to even register. And for all I know, it was just a fluke. I can hardly remember pulling the
