Duty.
Respect.
Honor.
Integrity.
Courage.
These are the words I constantly repeat; they represent what drives me toward a future where Bruno is not present.
My body has suffered different levels of change. I gained a few pounds of muscle, which improved my overall stamina. My body is now toned; I would even call it sculpted. My mindset has become resilient, and I’m a tough person now. I’m strong, impenetrable, more so than I could ever have imagined.
I no longer fear the world. It’s round two, and I’m ready for this bout.
The day I graduated from basic training I came to a startling realization. It all started the day before, when I was asked to provide a guest list of friends and family who would attend the ceremony. I admitted that I didn’t have anyone to ask, but didn’t think too much more about it until I saw the empty chairs with my last name on them. That’s when it really hit me.
Not a single person.
Totally empty.
Right there I learned that it doesn’t matter how much control you have over your mind and body, if you are missing the most important person in your life.
Some people say, “If you can’t be happy when you are alone, then you can’t be happy when you are with someone either.” Well, I have something to say to those people: Fuck you. You fuckers never knew real love.
After Asad had my mom murdered, I thought my life was over, I didn’t have anything left to live for, and revenge was the only thing fueling my desire to move forward. I was so drunk on danger I didn’t realize how, in the process of seeking revenge, my feelings for Bruno had started to bloom within me. They rapidly spread like a vine and were rooted deeply, taking control of my mind after subduing my body first.
Deep inside I knew it, but I refused to accept it. I should’ve been wiser. I couldn’t accept that without my consent I was addicted to him, I needed to feel his skin, I wanted him to touch me. And to make matters worse, the day I realized those things it was too damn late.
Bruno proved to be a question with no answer, completely untraceable. I googled him and found nothing, no blog or shameful social media profile, no tags referring to him or any friend or family.
Was Bruno even his real name?
I then started to look for Carter’s apartment. I had no real idea where it was, I just remember bits and pieces from the day we dropped him off after rescuing him from captivity. I walked around the city with blisters on my feet until I finally stumbled upon the building. I pushed every button on the directory door and asked every person who picked up on the other side about him, but no one knew or had heard of anyone named Carter living there.
So, I stalked the building for hours, I even spent a night out there, fell sleep until the sound of a few coins being dropped at my feet woke me. A man thought I was homeless and decided he could spare some change that night.
Dawn came, and I was still there, waiting for him to show up, but he never did. Then a man approached me who told me I could find my way back through Jesus.
Finally, the police showed up. Apparently, someone had reported me.
I was forced to leave the place.
It has already been two years but I still have nothing new to go on.
It feels weird, like somehow, the idea of him was an illusion in the desert, maybe something I made up.
It is an abyss. No leads, news or letters, no one knows him. Period.
Is this it? Gone forever? Didn’t he say I mattered? Because he matters to me.
Fuck him.
And to think I had conversations with him in my head every night during boot camp, we discussed my daily achievements, the hard tasks I was able to complete or all the yelling I endured from my instructor that day.
All my camp buddies received mail every other day, which kept my hopes high, that someday I’d get a letter from him, even a coded one from some random stranger and that he’d include something only he and I would recognize. But that letter never came. In fact, I never got mail from anyone. That made my buddies uneasy. And to be honest, I get it. Someone is in boot camp and doesn’t have a single person who would send a letter? Not even a pen pal? That’s weird, for sure.
At least I didn’t have to do push-ups to get them.
