28

28
“You must be better than this. You’re a soldier for godsake.”

For god’s sake? It can’t be. I look down at my bloodstained hands, the ones I’ve acquired for an approval I’ll never get.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I whimper. The whistling of bombs over head, shakes me to my core, my hands trembling.

“This is exactly what you signed up for. Open your eyes and look at it. This is what freedom costs. It’s a heavy price, Kyro.”

Freedom? When will I be free? Screaming, crying children, babies wailing fills my ears. But the crying isn’t the worst.

It’s when the crying stops.

“You can’t take this, can you?” He murmurs. 

I shake my head. “No I can’t. I can’t take this. It’s too much. It’s too much death. It’s swallowing me.”

Another bomb falls, another home demolished, another family killed in the name of freedom.

In Volterra’s name. 

“You’ve served a full tour. I can get you out of active duty.”

I sigh, and look up at him. “Thank you, Capitain—“

“But you’re too good an asset, Kyro. I’ll put you on a different assignment. Something softer—“

“I want to stop,” my voice cracks. “Please let me stop.”

He glares down at me in disgust. This is disgusting to him. The death is home.

“You signed a 10 year contract. You’ve served 4. You will finish your contract.”

My lids fall, and I nod. 

“Finish this battle. If you make it back to base, we’ll get you transferred.”

I stand, cut my brain off. My teammates' body parts are scattered along the rough terrain. I blur my vision to the familiar arms, legs and faces—what remains of them.

How do I keep surviving? Why I do I keep surviving?

I keep marching. Gun in my hand. Flag on my uniform. This is what they died for? A flag?

“You look terrible, Ky.”

I look over at Issac. The only one of my friends left. “I am terrible.”

“Issac!”

“Kyro, it’s okay! Take deep breaths! You’re safe! You’re at my house, you’re okay!”

My heart pounds in my ears, my breath shaky and uneven, hands flexing. Scarlet holds my face in her hands, dark eyes full of concern.

“Take deep breaths,” she demonstrates, nodding until I do. “That’s good. You’re okay. You’re there anymore. You’re with me. You’re with Red.”

Her face finally comes into view. I glance around. It’s her room. It smells like weed and vanilla. She’s in her nightgown. I try to orient myself. 

I sit up, my mind flashing with images. I put my hands over my ears trying to shut them out. The sounds, the smells, the sights.

Go away. Please go away. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, I really am.

I wanted to forget those things.

Red rubs my back. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get you some water and incense. Stay there.”

I hear her hurried steps. I keep taking deep breaths, try to stop my hands from shaking. I shouldn’t have talked about those things. I didn’t want her to see this.

She’s nearly running, lit incense in her hand, water in the other. 

“Drink it. It’s cold it’ll help you focus your sense on the present,” she hands it to me.

Then she waves the incense around the room. “Focus on the scent. It’s vanilla. It’s not like that place.”

I take a sip of water. “You did this for your father?”

She stops and sets the incense down, getting into bed next to me, watching me carefully.

“Him first. Me after.”

I sniffle. “I never do that. I just…power through. It’s my price.”

She leans her head against the headboard. “Living when you shouldn’t have is your price.”

I finish my water, set it on the nightstand. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up—“

“Thank you, Red. Really.” I murmur. 

She just squeezes my hand. “Don’t thank me.”

We sit together. We often do after talks like this. As if we have to digest the words we’ve said. It’s a nice kind of quiet, as if you’re full. No more needs to be said.

She leans her head on my shoulder. 

She doesn’t ask about it. Her toes play with mine, her head against my shoulder, hand in mind as if trying to tether me to reality.

It does.

No one has ever done anything like this for me before. How can this not be love?

“Do you want breakfast?” She asks softly, after a while.

I nod, but I’m not sure I could eat right now. 

“I have breakfast food, but I’m not a good cook,” 

“I am.” 

She looks up at me. Oh those eyes. Those dark and endless eyes. I fall into them, every time I see them, an ocean I swim in, get lost in—happily.

“Do you feel up to it?”

“It’ll be nice to get my mind off things.”

She gets up, walks toward the door. She pauses when I don’t follow, opening her hand. I stand and hurry to take it. She leads me into the kitchen, a room I’m not often in.

I take stock of it. Its pristine. She really doesn’t cook much.

She pulls some pans out. “Use whatever you want in the fridge.”

I look through the options. There’s plenty of food, all of it fresh. I pick out some eggs and some bacon.

“You have pancake mix?”

She points to the cabinet. I get it and start prepping.

I put my mind into it, focusing on it with the utmost intensity.

“It’s why no one spends the night.” She says from behind me. I crack an egg into the bowl, taking some shell with it. “Nightmares like that.”

I swallow. “I understand.”

“It’s how I knew I loved you. I didn’t mind. The possibility of it happening with you there? I thought…maybe it would be okay.”

“It would be.” I murmur. “Now I know exactly what to do for you.”

The chair scraps and her lips press against my back. 

I shiver. “To mine.”

“Hm?”

“You could come to my place too. If you wanted.”

She freezes. 

I whisk the batter harder. “You don’t have to—“

“That would be nice, Kyro.”

I close my eyes. “Thank you, Red.”

She doesn’t respond, but she kisses my back again and hugs me around my waist tightly. Then she goes to the bathroom, comes back.

“Put your arms out.”

I do it, on instinct. She puts a robe on me, ties it from behind me.

“You asked me to love you. Don’t thank me for it.”