The Third Camp Trilogy: The Chaotic End

Chapter thirty seven: Carrie

Oh gods.

It can't be true.

When I got the call, I was hoping it was something Martin Industries related.

But when we walked in, to find Angita crying across from two soldiers, I knew something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Someone was hurt, or worse.

"Angita? What's wrong?" I walked over.

The soldiers stood when they heard my voice. "Mr. Martin." They removed their hats.

"What's this about?" I demanded.

"Sir, you may need to sit down."

I glanced at Angita, she nodded, and I cautiously sat down.

"We regret to inform you—" The one on the left started.

"Cut to the point, Soldier." I interrupted him.

"They both fought valiantly, but your mother, she was sadly killed in action."

My mouth was ajar.

I looked down, tears in my eyes.

This had to be some sort of cruel joke.

Yes, that's what it had to be.

Chris was controlling these soldiers, making then say these... these lies.

"Your father's MIA."

They sat in silence, waiting.

Waiting for me to yell.

To scream that they were wrong.

To cry.

To do something.

But I had been preparing myself for this moment my entire life.

Finally I spoke, it seemed like hours later.

"Is anyone looking for him?" I questioned, my voice hoarse.

"They're trying their best, but our resources are—"

"What about Team Ops?" I murmured.

"They are searching as well."

"What can I do to help?"

"I don't think—"

"Don't tell me what you think, tell me what you know." I ordered.

"You can't help. You're too attached."

"Fine." I angrily stood up. "I'll be... wherever."

I stormed downstairs, only to find Chris sitting against the wall, hands pulling at his hair and head beating against his knees.

Without a word he stood up and hugged me, I happily accepted his embrace and could feel his tears soaking my shoulder.

I knew I wouldn't cry.

I lost the ability to cry after the funeral for Chris a few years ago.

Neither Chris nor I spoke a word. We both understood that neither of us wanted to speak.

"I'm so sorry for everything." Chris whispered.

"It's okay." I assured my big brother.

"We're both minors, they're going to take you away. They don't know about me. I don't want to lose you."

"I won't let them take me, dad won't let them take us. He's still alive. He has to still be alive. I promise he's alive."

"You're the mature one, not me."

"It doesn't matter." I shook my head.

"You're going to have to plan a funeral, I know you won't want to put anyone else through that."

"I know." I nodded.

"...Does Neptuna know yet?"

"No, and she won't know."

"Why?"

"I don't want her to see me like this. It's just too painful."

"...Okay..." Chris sniffled and attempted to wipe the continuous flow of tears from his face. I reached over and helped him as best I could.

"H-how come you're not crying?" Chris looked at me.

"I don't think I can."

"What?"

"I've lost the ability to cry."

"S-since when?"

"Since your funeral a few years ago."

"Oh. R-right." Chris sniffled again and wiped more tears.

"Chris, it's okay to cry. We... W-we just lost our mom. You have every right to cry."

"So do you..." Chris muttered, hugging me again.

I shook my head slightly and hugged back.

"C-carrie, you're the greatest little brother I could ever have..." Chris whispered.

"Three minutes, you can't let go of those three minutes..." I joked half-heartedly, not smiling or laughing.

Then silence overtook us once more. Chris's warm tears were soaking into my shirt, through my sweatshirt and cape, but I didn't mind.

She's gone.

She's gone, my mother is gone.

I'll never see her again.

Never see her smile.

Never hear her laugh.

Never listen to her war stories.

Never.

Never again.

She's gone.

Gone forever.

May the gods send her to Elysium for her great services.

Let her live in Elysium until I go to the Fields Of Punishment and I see her again.

Just one more time.

I just want to see her again.

To see her smile.

To hear her laugh.

To listen to her war stories.

One more time.

Just one more time.

Let her come back to me, let me tell her goodbye.

Why must the gods make me, my family, my friends, suffer so much?

All this suffering.

All this pain.

All the agony that my life had become.

I hate it.

I hate this.

"I hate it." I whispered.

"I hate it too, Carrie... I hate it too..." Chris whimpered into my shoulder.