Chapter Seventeen

RPOV

A few years prior to becoming Marshall, I had tried to fit myself into a particular mold. Someone who was sensible, someone who didn't act rashly without thinking first—admittedly one of my more deprecating faults—someone who my family could have been proud of. It wasn't always easy, pushing aside my most primal instincts, but eventually, I had come to some sort of happy medium that I could be satisfied with.

Now, I wouldn't necessarily describe myself as a pragmatic person, although it's certainly something I strived to be, but I could at least trust in my gut. I relied on it from time to time when I was on the verge of lashing out or unsure of what move to make, and it usually seemed to steer me in the right course. However, now I had no idea what to trust in. My head, heart, and gut were all screaming at me, begging me to make a choice that followed the correct path. But each path seemed to lead to a dead end and the deafening cries were nowhere close to being answered. I wasn