Discharged from Both the Marines & My Family

     A week after almost being murdered, I was handed my discharge papers and my commanding officer made a big show of gathering the troops and giving a big speech, while wishing me luck.

      A few of the troops snickered at his disingenuous words. Everyone knew he was a backbiting suck up and had talked a lot of trash behind my back during the months I fought to recover.

      He handed me my final discharge papers and offered to shake my hand while saying, “Good luck, Chimera.”

      I looked at his hand and back up at him, refusing to shake his hand. I simply said, “Sir, you disgust me”.

     I walked off to gather my gear and then left the base.

      Within two weeks I also left the area, moving back to Pennsylvania. The entire time I was injured (while my superiors mislead, targeted and did their best to push me out of the Marine Corp nest), I resented being forced out of an organization to which I desperately wanted to belong.

      I felt betrayed by a handful of men who were not half the Marine I thought I could become. It felt as painful as the time my cousin tried to force me out of his tent. I wanted to strike back and bring down their tent.