(no subject)
What is one thing you have learned from your past?
Patience.
He always had it. Even as a child, Seeley could sit for hours without fidgeting. He never rushed for recess or used his bigger size to get ahead of his classmates in line. When the bell rang at three, Seely would pack his books in his bag and was usually the last one out of the school.
Some teachers thought he was slow because of it. They talked down to him and didn’t call on him for answers. It made him smile, because he knew the answers to the questions and he didn’t mind that they assumed he was special. It didn’t bother him at all.
It didn’t bother him until they accused his best friend of cheating to help him during tests. They couldn’t prove anything, because in fact, Seeley had tutored him. Throwing questions at him as they walked to school and after, as they dodged traffic and looked for lost change along the sidewalks and in the gutters.
It was the first memory Seeley had of being furious and helpless. Of injustice. He could remember sitting in the hallway outside the principal’s office while his mother, just barely sober enough to get here, had listened to the accusations with silence. And had not defended him.
His best friend’s parents had said more in his defense than his own blood.
Not that he had truly expected more.
A school counselor tested him, expecting to find results to allow her to put him in remedial classes. Instead, she found him gifted and rewarded punished Seeley by taking him out of the regular classroom and putting him in advanced grades. Where he never spoke to his older classmates without being spoken to first. Where he did only what was expected and nothing more. Where he never made the mistake of having a best friend or letting someone in again.
Patience.
Seeley left for basic training in the Army the day after he graduated from High School two years early. He took college courses on criminology and law in the evenings while he learned how to field strip a rifle, how to kill with his bare hands and how to torture without leaving physical signs during the day.
He became a platoon leader because the other men saw something in him that they couldn’t ignore, even though Seeley never went out drinking with them on rare, free weekends. They trusted him with their lives and he, in turn, made them become the best soldiers they could.
And his patience made him the best Ranger, the best leader, the best officer he could become.
When they were sent to war, Seeley broke the promise he’d made to himself.
He let them in.
Seeley could lay for hours on a hillside. Four, eight, twelve. Staring through the scope of his rifle without moving a muscle. Flawless tension on the trigger that never wavered until the perfect shot presented itself and only then would he move. Carrying out orders that came from people he’d never met, killing people that he’d never know. It was hard to hold on to his humanity. Having friends, brothers, teammates was the only thing that kept Seely from becoming a machine.
His natural patience made him an ultimate weapon, but finally learning to allow himself friends again kept him alive.
Patience.
He always had it. Even as a child, Seeley could sit for hours without fidgeting. He never rushed for recess or used his bigger size to get ahead of his classmates in line. When the bell rang at three, Seely would pack his books in his bag and was usually the last one out of the school.
Some teachers thought he was slow because of it. They talked down to him and didn’t call on him for answers. It made him smile, because he knew the answers to the questions and he didn’t mind that they assumed he was special. It didn’t bother him at all.
It didn’t bother him until they accused his best friend of cheating to help him during tests. They couldn’t prove anything, because in fact, Seeley had tutored him. Throwing questions at him as they walked to school and after, as they dodged traffic and looked for lost change along the sidewalks and in the gutters.
It was the first memory Seeley had of being furious and helpless. Of injustice. He could remember sitting in the hallway outside the principal’s office while his mother, just barely sober enough to get here, had listened to the accusations with silence. And had not defended him.
His best friend’s parents had said more in his defense than his own blood.
Not that he had truly expected more.
A school counselor tested him, expecting to find results to allow her to put him in remedial classes. Instead, she found him gifted and rewarded punished Seeley by taking him out of the regular classroom and putting him in advanced grades. Where he never spoke to his older classmates without being spoken to first. Where he did only what was expected and nothing more. Where he never made the mistake of having a best friend or letting someone in again.
Patience.
Seeley left for basic training in the Army the day after he graduated from High School two years early. He took college courses on criminology and law in the evenings while he learned how to field strip a rifle, how to kill with his bare hands and how to torture without leaving physical signs during the day.
He became a platoon leader because the other men saw something in him that they couldn’t ignore, even though Seeley never went out drinking with them on rare, free weekends. They trusted him with their lives and he, in turn, made them become the best soldiers they could.
And his patience made him the best Ranger, the best leader, the best officer he could become.
When they were sent to war, Seeley broke the promise he’d made to himself.
He let them in.
Seeley could lay for hours on a hillside. Four, eight, twelve. Staring through the scope of his rifle without moving a muscle. Flawless tension on the trigger that never wavered until the perfect shot presented itself and only then would he move. Carrying out orders that came from people he’d never met, killing people that he’d never know. It was hard to hold on to his humanity. Having friends, brothers, teammates was the only thing that kept Seely from becoming a machine.
His natural patience made him an ultimate weapon, but finally learning to allow himself friends again kept him alive.