The first week is spent being broken down physically, spiritually, and mentally. Religious? Your God is dead. In great shape? You're sucking for air after one minute. Think you're a happy person? Turns out you have an Oedipus Complex. All day crying is heard throughout the camp. No one is given a gun with live ammunition and I wonder why until a guy from China tries to blow his brains out after realizing he had been molested when he was 3 years old. When he heard the rifle clicking instead of booming he collapsed to the ground and was immediately dragged away and sent somewhere for reprogramming.
Later that night word is spreading that within the first week seventy guys have failed the program. I don't see L.T during this entire time. It’s not that I miss him or anything. But I could get information from him and he hadn't tried to fondle me mentally or physically. A lot of the guys here would stare and scoff wondering why, me, a girl, was even here. I ignored them for the most part. As long as they didn’t try anything we were cool. On what I assume is Sunday we are awoken by the sound of explosions. Everyone runs out to see what is going on. I stay put. Suddenly someone throws a sheet or something over my face and I black out.
When I wake up I am tied to a chair with tape over my nose, forcing me to breath through my mouth. I stare straight forward and look at a man with a gray uniform. His uniform looks exactly like L.T but he has no shoes on. His feet are black with filth and when he smiles I can see he has only two of his front bottom teeth left. He bites at his nails and clears his throat before speaking.
“Are you scared, sweet heart?” he asks. I stare at him while he spits his fingernail onto my lap. “Stop staring at me, whore.” I continue to stare. “Is there something on my face? Are you looking at my teeth?”
“What teeth?” someone in the room asks while many others laugh. I gather at least five other men in the room.
“Shut the fuck up!” the toothless wonder shouts. “I think this chick has a staring problem.” “What do we usually do with people that have staring problems?” someone asks. “I forget,” he says while rubbing his chin. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a small knife
with a black blade. He rushes towards me and slices at my face, cutting me just below my right eye. I don't flinch and this seems to upset him even more. “Fuck you!” he shouts. “You ain't tough. Where you from? L.A? Fuck L.A. All you running around acting all tough and shit. Fuck you. I'm from Alabama.”
“That explains the teeth,” I say which causes everyone in the room to laugh. Everyone except Teeth here. He slaps me hard across the face. Someone must have taken a step forwards because Teeth looks past me and gives a stare that could freeze water.
“What is this world coming to when a Black bitch like you can outlast 300 other fine soldiers?” Teeth asks. He said 300. I heard there were only seventy sent home. “Do you want to hit me?” he asks. “Go ahead and try.” He leans forward, just inches from my face. “Come on, darkie,” he says. He starts making kissing noises and then grabs me by the throat, squeezing hard. I just look him in the eye. “What? You don't like me?”
“This isn’t working,” I tell him. “There is nothing scary or intimidating about you.” “Fuck you,” he says. “Very original,” I say, angering him further. He screams then throws a wild right hook I tilt my
head back as he misses by less than an inch. He swings too close to me and I sink my teeth into his ribs. I feel something crunching as he shouts and tries to free himself from my mouth. Men are laughing while he continues to push my head away only causing me to bite harder.“Stop it, bitch!” he shouts while I begin to bite so hard I can taste his blood in my mouth.
“Let him go,” I hear L.T say from behind me. I release him and he crashes to the ground lifting his shirt. He has blood coming from his side on his ribs. L.T steps between the two of us and smiles before punching me hard in the nose. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he asks. I swallow my blood and sigh. He holds his hand out and someone tosses him a gun. I have never in my life seen a gun that look like this. It has the trigger near the bottom causing you to fire using your small or pinky finger instead of your index. He puts the gun to my head and presses so hard that I feel blood running down my brow. “Have you ever been shot?” he asks.
“No,” I reply. “Well, today is your lucky day,” L.T says before I hear a click and the room goes black.