Chapter 27

27

SARAH

I leaned back against the wall, feeling the exhaustion settle deep into my bones. My body felt like it had been through a battlefield, bruised and battered from the brutal exercises of the day. I glanced at Kylee who was sprawled out on her bed. She looked just as worn. Tomorrow was another early morning, and I knew I should get in bed, but I didn't want to move. I knew I was going to be stiff and sore if I crashed. I needed to do some stretching.

I pushed away from the wall and lifted one arm, then the other.

"How can you move?" Kylee groaned.

"If I don't move, I'm going to turn into a stiff board," I told her while doing some calf raises. "You should get up. You don't want to be stiff tomorrow."

"I already am," she muttered.

"Join the club," I responded with a wry smile, moving into a lunge.

Her only answer was a soft snore, signaling her descent into sleep. Shaking my head, I continued my routine, opting for silence rather than the low chatter of people in the halls. The training had been taxing. I needed to keep my thoughts straight. After the noise of training with the instructors trying to break me, I needed the quiet to get focused.

I was exhausted—more exhausted than I'd ever been in my entire life. Every muscle in my body ached, and my mind was foggy from sleep deprivation. We were halfway through survival training, and the thought of having to come back next year for continued training filled me with dread. This had been the most brutal part of my education so far. I wished I'd been better prepared, but at the same time, I knew this experience was forging me into something stronger. I'd done and endured things that had broken some of my peers. We'd already lost twenty percent of our class. Kylee was still standing, but Clay washed out, and though it broke my heart to see him go, I couldn't lose sight of the finish line.

We all knew it was inevitable one of us would wash out. The statistics didn't lie. I was naive enough to think we would somehow all make it.

There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I asked, not wanting to stop the yoga routine I moved into. I was never a yoga freak, but I was glad I had gone to a few classes. It helped me stretch and center.

"It's Rolley."

"Come in," I said.

He walked in and sat down on Kylee's bed. "How are you still standing?" Rolley asked me.

I chuckled. "Because if I stop, I don't know if I'll ever get up again."

Rolley laughed. I couldn't help but join in, even as every inch of my body screamed in pain. "You've got more guts than any of us, Sarah," he said.

"I'm not sure if it's guts or just stubbornness," I admitted, lowering myself to the floor and crossing my legs. The stretch felt divine on my aching muscles.

Rolley sobered up a little. "How are you holding up?" he asked. There was genuine concern in his voice. We were all disappointed about losing Clay. Other things that happened in training were best left as memories. I wasn't ready to put words to the experiences. That would come later.

"I'll be fine," I replied. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. I go back and forth between asking myself if this is really worth it and telling myself it absolutely is."

"I get it." I nodded. "It's a lot. But that's what they want you to do. This is to prove we are committed to making it. We can't have one foot in. We have to be all in. That's why they push us to the point of breaking."

"It sucks," he muttered. He looked at Kylee who was still face down. "Is she okay?"

I smiled. "I'm sure she'll be fine. She's exhausted."

"I think I'm going to skip dinner and go to bed."

Suddenly, a commotion down the hall broke the silence. We exchanged weary glances, trying to muster the energy to care.

"What now?" Kylee groaned, her voice muffled.

"Maybe someone found a hidden stash of snacks," Rolley joked weakly, though his attempt at humor fell flat. "I could use some sugar. And ten beers."

"That is the last thing you need right now," I told him. "You need protein and carbs."

"You sound like one of the instructors," he retorted, though there was no heat in his words. We all knew we had to eat properly to keep our strength up. Drinking that first night had been a mistake.

Things got louder and there was some banging. Curiosity got the best of me. I slowly got up from the floor, wincing as my sore muscles protested. "I'll go check it out," I said, trying to sound more energetic than I felt.

Kylee and Rolley stayed on the bed. I knew they thought I was too nosy for my own good, but I couldn't help it.

I poked my head out of the room and saw a group of young men heading into one of the other rooms. There was more shouting. It wasn't shouting like people were happy. It sounded like anger.

"Fuck off!" someone shouted.

Then there was laughter. I thought maybe I was wrong. It was just a bunch of guys acting stupid. I was about to close the door when I heard the sound of what sounded like a struggle.

"Stop!" someone yelled.

My gut twisted. This wasn't just messing around. I stepped into the hallway, my curiosity turning to concern.

"There she goes," Kylee groaned.

"I'll make sure she's okay," Rolley said.

When I reached the room, I found a young trainee, around my age, on his back on the floor. He was being held down by four of his "friends," and they had a towel over his head. My eyes widened in shock as they poured a pitcher of water over his face, waterboarding him. He sputtered and thrashed, trying to escape while his friends laughed and yelled at him to hang in there.

"They used to do this in survival training! Put your big girl panties on, Hoffman!" one of them jeered.

Hoffman, the young man on the floor, struggled harder, his body convulsing as he fought for breath. Rage boiled up inside me. This was beyond cruel.

I stepped forward and kicked the water pitcher away from the guy pouring it. They turned to me in surprise. I shot them a glare before I shoved one of them off Hoffman. He fell to his side, cursing at me. Hoffman scrambled to his feet, ripping the towel off his face and leaning over, bracing himself as he coughed and fought to catch his breath.

"You're acting like animals," I spat at them. "This is an outdated hazing tactic. You're not trained professionals. You could kill him!"

The four young men glared at me, their eyes filled with anger. One of them, a tall guy with a crewcut, stepped forward. "You shouldn't have intervened."

Kylee and Rolley came in behind me, trying to diffuse the tension, but I was ready for a fight. "We're all on the same side," I said fiercely. "We should be building each other up, not making it harder to get through survival training."

Hoffman, still gasping for air, looked at me with gratitude. "You should go while you can," he managed to say, his voice shaky.

His so-called friends laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. "You and your buddies aren't going anywhere," the crewcut said, grabbing the towel again. Another picked up the empty pitcher. They all turned toward me. I clenched my hands into fists, ready to defend myself. I knew exactly what they had in mind.

"I don't tolerate bullies," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. I knew this was going to get ugly, but I couldn't back down. Not now. I took a step forward, preparing to defend Hoffman—and myself—against whatever came next.

The four young men stared at me, their faces flushed with anger. "Mind your own business, bitch," one of them growled.

"Guys, come on," Kylee said. "Let's calm down."

"You guys don't want to do this," Rolley warned. "You're going to get reprimanded."

Ignoring the pleas from Kylee and Rolley, the crewcut guy stepped closer. His eyes were full of raw aggression. I could tell that my words had sparked a rage in him.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that," he spat, his hand curling into a fist.

Just as I thought he was about to strike, Hoffman lunged toward him from the side. His move took them both by surprise. Crewcut grunted as they tumbled onto the floor. In the confusion, I reached down and grabbed the towel from the floor. Another one of them tried to grab me but I sidestepped his hand and threw an elbow into his stomach. He crumpled, gasping for air.

Rolley and Kylee had sprung into action as well. Rolley aimed a swift hook to the jaw of the biggest guy in the group. He stumbled back, looking dazed. Kylee was more calculated, delivering swift jabs to the fourth of them, slowly but surely backing him into a corner.

With two tackled and the other two occupied, I made my way to Hoffman who was struggling on the floor with Crewcut. I knelt beside them and helped him pin down his opponent.

I thought we were good. It was over. None of us were in our best fighting condition. Everyone in the room was breathing heavily. My arms felt like limp noodles. I imagined everyone else was feeling the same. All I wanted to do was go to bed.

"Now, you guys have had your fun," I said calmly. "Hoffman, are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine."

"Good. Then I suggest we all get some rest. Tomorrow is going to suck. We need to save our strength for that."

The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife. No one said or did anything. I looked at Rolley, gauging his feelings. He wasn't budging. This was not over. I could feel it.

I stood up and turned to face the room. "This needs to stop," I said, my voice echoing in the silence. "We're all in this together."

Laughter broke out from one corner of the room. It was Crewcut, blood trickling from a split lip. His eyes were still burning with anger and resentment, but behind that I saw something else. Evil.

"You think we're afraid of you?" he sneered.

"I don't care if you are," I said calmly. "Hoffman, if you need anything, we're just down the hall."

Crewcut nodded at one of his buddies. Before any of us could react, the door was closed, and we were officially trapped. My stomach dropped when I realized we were in real trouble. I looked at Rolley and Kylee. I tried to apologize with my eyes.

"Get the towel," Crewcut said. "This bitch needs to be taught a lesson."

"Touch me and you'll regret it," I said in the most menacing voice I could muster.

I imagined I probably sounded more like an annoying fly than someone that was capable of fighting off four very angry, rough-looking men.