Sabine unfurled and laid her uniform out on her bed from top to bottom, beret and badges on the shelf above the headrest, jacket, shirt, belt, holster, pants on the bare mattress, boots and backpack on the floor at the foot of her bed. The pride that once churned when she saw her uniform had long since become gnarled and terrifying. Now, her uniform simply provided a khaki essence of colour to her muted grey two room flat. Some would say how the mighty had fallen. Once well respected within her field, honoured for her grit and determination from her first patrolling partners to the men and women in the same division. She had been to war three times. Three times she had come home less of a person than she was before, detachment and emptiness etching away at more of her soul each time. From her army khaki's and stiff black boots, to her stained pyjamas and bare feet sore from running throughout the night while drunk. The ecstasy of drink was what got her fired from Training Supervisor. But the numbness of it was too hard to resist. Sabine slumped against the edge of her bed and whined quietly. Outside a small group argued over who had bought what from the dollar store. Once upon a time, the conflict would have soothed her turbulent mind, a reason to be a hero despite how meagre it may seem to them. But now the twang of their bickering paralyzed her and her thoughts. What if they started to fight? What if one of them tried to seek refuge in her apartment? What if he had a knife or worse? She staggered to her feet and reached for her backpack and the bottle and didn't hesitate to wash her dry throat down with half the contents. The burn of vodka had dulled over the years and she was more intolerant to water or juice than liquor and spirits. Their arguing grated on her, making her skin prickle like someone had touched a nettle to her flesh. "Stupid fucking..." she slurred and dug her hand into her bag and clasped her fingers around something ridged and metal. Sabine pulled out her handgun, the cold sweat of terror or anger making her grip shaky and unreliable, all the while watching the groups argument escalate outside her window. Her senses, mostly deadened from booze, now started throbbing and churning as she steadied her clutch on the handgun. The bedroom smelt musky and aged, the wounds on her heel started to itch but her sight became fogged from tears. The fluency of what she had just done only affirmed that she should do it. She brushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to taste the bitterness of drink and swallowed hard. Only it was more difficult to swallow when the muzzle of her gun pressed against the top of her neck, just below her jaw. The metal met the soft, fleshy part that sags with age. She dug it in deeper against her throat and watched her own reflection in the mirror. The mirage that stared back was bleak. The sunken, red gaze of her once keen and bright eyes, the pallid scarring of surviving solely on vodka and whiskey made her cheekbones look as though they were pushing through her skin. Her hair hung loose on her bare shoulders, her dogtags long lost when she traded them for cigarettes. A husk of the woman she once was. Barely existing. Barely awake. The unknowing blackness that awaited her was strangely comforting. Her brain matter and blood would make for better decoration than her uniform or any other ornaments in this room. She was ready. Longing. Silently pleading for freedom of her sins and fears even if that liberation meant death. Her finger massaged the trigger and she took a trembled breath inward. Sabine began to close her eyes but the buzz of her phone on her bed interrupted her solitary acceptance. A text from her brother, Martin:
Guess who's not going to be the youngest in our family anymore? That's right. Your big brother is going to be a dad! Me and Becca want you to come to the US to be there every step of the way. Baby Kruger has to meet his badass Aunt straight away.
The gun dropped inaudibly to the carpet, the men outside still argued, Sabine teetered away from death and felt her heart swell in a way it had not for a long time and she looked up flights to San Francisco that instant.