Avalanche

| the strike |

I hated myself. I hated my father. I hated everything.

Why now? Why was everything falling apart now?

The shell I had tried to hard to crawl out of, was now my prison. I didn't anyone get close, I was numb, worse, I was indifferent. I was as cold as my name or heritage suggested.

It was suffocating. And it didn't help that I just constantly wanted to be alone.

Phoenix is backwards on her bed, saying, "So after dinner I was thinking we could watch that new—"

"Not now Phoenix." I snapped. I didn't mean to, or just came out. She looked visibly hurt, so she got up and left our dorm without a word.

I was so rude and mean, and she didn't deserve it, but I didn't even have the energy to apologize.

The secrets were eating me alive, and I couldn't even visit my father as he was battling cancer. Only his closest friends knew.

It affected me so badly. I didn't go out on the weekends to the Hard Deck with everyone, instead, I stayed in and studied.

I was determined to prove myself. To not mess up. Not when I was so close and everything in my life was getting worse.

Hangman even tried to pry me out of my state, but he could barely get so much as a backhanded compliment from me. But I noticed that they were trying. I wondered when they were going to give up.

❅

Today at Top Gun, we were doing air strike practice.

I hadn't slept all night, instead, all my mistakes and regrets came to haunt me that night.

Shaking my head to stop myself from too much thinking, because too much thinking led to feeling.

And I couldn't afford that right now.

Being numb is what kept me even on the ground and in the air.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

I squeezed my central flight stick three times, and taxied my plane down the runway, ready to escape to the one place I didn't face any of my problems.

"Base Control to Eagle 1?"

"This is Avalanche. Eagle 1 requesting to take off."

"Request granted. Runway 4 is open."

"Copy that." I said, a small smile making its way to my face.

I flipped on my systems on, and I started down the long runway.

Faster and faster, until I held my stick back and I started skirting over the air.

I pulled up further, and I felt the hard pressure of gravity landing on me. If one thing was worth it, this was one of those things.

Our classes were getting progressively harder, and today's was all about precision.

My forte.

We all had to fly an electronic course, and then hit our target at the end. The course itself was easy, but the shot was after a sharp curve in the imaginary canyon, and you'd miss it if you blinked.

I never missed a single one, I hit the target every single time. Hangman missed one, securing his second place position. Natasha was doing well, but her WSO was still having trouble adjusting to her flying and we were weeks into the course. It frustrated her and she would rant to me about it. Well, used to rant to me about it.

Rooster really didn't talk to me, but then again, I didn't make an effort to. I always wondered if he blamed my father or Maverick for Goose's death.

We hung out a few times as children, and I knew Carole could never hold a grudge against anybody, she was too sweet. But when Maverick pulled Bradley's papers he changed. I couldn't read him anymore like how I used to when we were kids. It didn't really bother me though. I didn't have any sort of an attachment towards him.