The Endowed (Book 1): Mind Talkers

The Man That Let Go (Part 1)

Journal entry:

15th July 1997

"I'm sorry Tan," Kezia sighed, "but I just don't, get where this is going. You just always seem preoccupied when it comes to you and I."

Her words rang in my head and frustrated me. I looked to her with as much constraint that I could muster, knowing that my will would sink no matter what I said to try and salvage what was left of this. Her large brown eyes and dark flowing shoulder length locks were unlike the typical Russian heritage, and this morning those eyes reflected the frustration and grief that I heard in her voice.

"I thought that you've been working through your crap," she continued, a tear now welling up in the corner of her eye. "This hurts. I'm trying here, yet I get nothing in return. Nothing."

Strangely enough, that hurt me more than what she would ever know. Nothing in return?! Is this what women have come to? Demanding more and more from a man no matter what he gives for her to be happy?

I sighed deeply as I shut my eyes for a moment that felt like an hour. Her head hung low now as one or two more lowly tears dropped from her cheeks. "I don't know what else you want from me Kezia. Is it not enough that I'm trying? Doctor Fourie—"

"You've been trying for three years Tan," she croaked, her weeping more audible now, "and if you can't understand what it is I need from you, then maybe that's exactly what the problem is don't you?"

I tried to speak, but the words got caught in my throat and all I could conjure was senseless auditory grunts. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that I knew nothing I said was going to make anything right, or if I just simply did not know what to say without making myself seem like I was even worse of a person than she already thought I was. Instead, I gave up, and simply dropped my head into my hands.

A moment of tense silence passed, and she broke it with her last words, never looking my way, "Please go." I sat a moment, willing myself to say something; anything, but she cut me off as my mouth opened, "Please."

I stood slowly, and moved in the opposite direction. It was a terrible way to start the day, and to make matters worse, it was time for my first session of the day, and with my least favourite person.

How I loathed Tuesdays.

Loathe. A word I never thought I'd ever say.

*

I opened my eyes steadily, and my first sight was the shimmer of the euphoric dancing colours that hovered above me in an identical image of that of the hazy northern lights in a quiet ring. On the cemented floor was a soft mist that crept between my legs and boots lazily, and between the six screens that hovered ominously around me in a perfect circle. Beyond the screens, the blackening of the infinite darkness smothered the atmosphere.

"You and these gay colours." Lev appeared next to me arms folded, and eyes roaming the atmosphere in disgust.

"They aren't gay. They help me concentrate. "

"A lot of good that's been doing lately. Swear you're getting worse."

I eyed him, and watched as he shook his head still glancing around in disgust. "For your information, it's been helping me far more than your negativity. Now be quiet."

Lev snorted, yet I moved over to the first screen to my left to get working. Over the years, the screens had become larger, and I needed two hands to slip through the slide show of memories.

My eyes scanned through vivid images of war, dead and dying soldiers, and the injured soldiers stretchered to medical tents. In addition, what seemed like a drill sergeant featured quite often, screaming orders and dealing out punishment. "Found the link," I said flatly. "Moving forward."