𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗦 | Band Of Brothers |

02. the rusty old lock

The first few days of Toccoa Camp had been lightweight for the girl. Kira was used to being terrorized by men so the catcalls that were harshly thrown at her when wandering around kinda didn't bother her. It took one stare at them to knock it off. Truth was, she had already made quite the reputation at Toccoa. Her intimidating stare wasn't telling anyone otherwise, especially when it got out what kind of girl she was. Some of the Easy men must have spilled the details about her almost being like a professional scout girl who loved rifles. The girl cringed when she heard the rumours. How unrealistic it was, she had rather hoped to be able to stay low and unnoticed by the companies. It was indeed an unrealistic wish. And she would never call herself a professional either. Or scout girl. She did love them rifles though. 

Kira loved her alone time, which was a hurtful sacrifice she had to make. It was weird having friends, if it wasn't too early to give them that title. Kira didn't trust them enough for that yet, but they sure treated her like a friend. She had been on her own ever sinced hell broke loose in the house, all left alone by them and the world to deal with her heavy backpack on her own. It had made the girl crazy independet, never letting anyone in. 

There was a dark story behind the family Lanes, which had made her an outsider when the small town heard about the sickeningly things that had happened behind closed doors. They could spare her some pity stares when she went to the store or buy the meat she'd hunted and sold for a living. But never a 'hello' or even a 'hi'. Being an outcast in that way made her stop caring about opinions from others a long time ago. Her big heart had turned cold. But who stays warm when being treated like she'd was the garbage on the street, waiting for someone to clean her up while she was infecting the environment? 

The little girl who they had once seen skipping down the streets, not passing by a single soul without offering love to them, had turned into a lock. A lock without a key. A rusty lock who seemed to have its last days coming. A lock that no one took care of. They knew her story. It turned them pale. 

Kira had or would never tell anyone what really happened to her, what made her being so fucked up. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell anyone, no it was that she physically couldn't. Social workers had tried to handle the girl loads of times, but not once could she transform the images in her head to words. It was wounds that only she could see. They gave up pretty fast on her, leaving her with her siblings who didn't wait long to budge out from the ghost house they grew up in, nothing but painful memories left that hurt so much they'd thought they die from spending as much as a second in there again. 

She never blamed them for it, they still had a chance to have a life. No matter where Kira went, the ghosts would still follow her. Like wounds that turns to scars. They stop bleeding but if they're deep enough, they will never fade. 

"What's up with that frown, Oklahoma?" Luz dragged her out from her own head as she rolled her eyes. 

"I thought I told you to get off with the Oklahoma thing." Kira glared at him as she put her fork down. Snickers were heard around the table.

"That idiot is just getting started, I would save the frustration if I were you." Perconte muttered, clearly sharing her annoyance. 

"I don't get it." Kira admitted, impatiently waiting for Luz to explain. Guarnere narrowed his eyes at her as he inspected her looks. "Quit starin." 

"Yeah well I don't think you look very American to be fair, does she?" Wild Bill looked around the table as they all mumbled different answers. 

"Intelligent as always." Webster sighed, which was caught by Kira who couldn't help but smirk at him.