For approximately six years I've been serving the Survey Corps. Few male soldiers compliment my beauty and intelligence however, they back away when discovering one of my substantial flaws as a woman. A secret I can't find myself to reveal to Captai...
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CHAPTER VII | WHAT'S A WOMAN? Hush, there's no need to cry
Fresh water envelops me beautifully in one of the plenty shower stalls offered in the Scouting Legion Headquarters. The criminal's blood quickly makes its journey down my well form valleys of years of exercise. The fresh scent of coconut replaces the scent of death, vengeance and murder.
"Are you alright, sweetie?" Zack takes a seat on the bench. He lays a single foot on the concrete floor with his other resting on the rocky bench. He stares at the wall.
"Surprise. That's all." I look at Zack meanwhile scrubbing my knees. I have forgotten how handsome he really was. Zack Henderson was in his late thirties. He had a straight, high nose bridge that outlined well with his passionate light brown eyes. Always maintained his beard shaved allowing his thin lips become the masterpiece of his good looks. He was tall and masculine, but not to the extend of pulsing veins. Zack Henderson had the protector vibe I couldn't deny appreciating so dearly.
"How's it been, Zack?" I make conversation.
"Better than you, I see." He folds his arms to his chest and stares at me.
I send him a lopsided grin. "Well I am alive. Remember?" I wrap myself in a white towel and sit beside him, my back resting on his own.
"Hey." He looks over his shoulder. "You're fine." He waves my hands away from my thigh. "No one is going to see you there."
I pout. "Easy for you to say." I peruse for any unwanted hairs and look what I have here. "Darn. Missed one." I pull the hair with some tweezers a man invented luckily a few years back. "How stressing. Am I really a woman?"
"Divergent." Zack holds my hand, caressing my skin with his thumb. "You're hurting yourself." He stares at my thigh. I look at my thigh and notice a small amount of blood starting to appear. I've pressed the tweezers to my skin without noticing. "You're a woman. Trust me." He points to me, eyebrows raised in gesture to my feminine body parts.
"Well, I haven't seen a woman who has hair all over."
"A woman isn't defined by how much hair she has." Zack holds my chin. "Yours aren't as dark."
"But if they were coarse?" I remark.
"You'll be surprised how many men are attracted to such traits."
"Sure." I roll my eyes.
"A woman means to be mature." He holds my shoulders. "A real woman know their worth is beyond her physicality. A woman bases her value on her own intelligence, strength, integrity, values, contributions and her humanity."
"Those traits don't define me." I rise off the bench.
"You do my daughter." Zack pulls me to him. "It's there. You just have to accept your own flaw." He attempts to pick up a pair of fresh uniform laying on the bench. No luck again.
