Behind the Flames .:H2OVanoss:.

.:Chapter 6:.

"What do you mean, 'you had to leave them behind'?" Jonathan's tone came out harsher than he had intended, leading Marcel to shamefully look away.
"I...I mean exactly what I said. There was no way we would all get out alive, but some of us didn't even want to go." Marcel shivered, his voice no louder than a hoarse whisper. "I was nearly killed at least three times before making it somewhere safe."
"Can you tell us what happened? From the very beginning?" The careful question came from David.
"I suppose..." He faked a reassuring smile, taking another sharp, anxious breath. "I already mentioned before that we were forced from our home into their military. We put up a pretty good fight for a couple of kids, which in hind sight was probably a bad idea, because they always were extremely cautious with us.
"When we got there, we were put into a training camp alongside adults. We weren't allowed access of any of the outside world, and only had the words of returning soldiers to understand what was happening outside. We couldn't even leave the sleeping area without supervision." His voice rose with his growing anger. "We weren't there long before the four of us gathered together and hatched a plan to escape-" He choked on his breath, and Simone leaned over to rub circles in his back.
          "But, our plan failed so badly. It only resulted in the loss of two of the only friends I had left..."
Fear boiled in the back of Jonathan's throat like bile. "They didn't die, did they?" His pained squeak barely made it to his tongue.
          "No, at least, not to the point where they were buried in the ground." He met the confused looks with his own grieved frown. "The original idea was to cause a major scene, and flee when everyone was distracted- but before I explain, you need to know that when we were there for those few months, Evan, Luke, Craig and I had a pretty big reputation for being rebellious. We were always arguing with the soldiers and demanding to be returned home. From the start, the enemy had their eyes strictly on us.
          "Basically, they were already fed up with our shenanigans, and treated us very unfairly. It wasn't until the 'plan' went into motion that we realized how immature and unprepared we were. Evan and Luke tried to pick a fight with another rookie, but...let's just say that more people got involved than planned, and a lot of things were burned down. Other soldiers stood by and watched them gang up on us, just letting them hand our asses back to us. As if it wasn't bad enough, they reported the situation to the general, and later that night we were removed from the camp. We for sure thought we were going to be executed on the spot."
          He hiccuped and quickly brought a hand to wipe the nervous sweat from his brow. His leg bounced nervously on the stone floor. "I don't know where they took us, but it was like a huge underground facility of some sort. They imprisoned us there for gods know how long, until at some point they dragged off Luke and Evan. I don't know why they chose them specifically- maybe it was because they picked the fights, but Craig and I waited a good few hours before anything happened.
          "We were weak and starving, I remember, because they didn't feed us at all in the time we were there. Maybe ten hours later, this huge man came down and dragged us into another creepy room." His eyes suddenly went dark, teeth chattering and fingernails scraping his skin away. "I don't think I'll ever forget that room."
          A shiver wracked Jonathan's body, as if a cold, dead hand grazed its icy fingers along the back of his neck. His heart and breath were quickening by the seconds, his fingers tapping nervously on his leg. Part of his mind begged for the story to continue, the other wanting to shut down and save himself from knowing.
          Taking an uneven breath, Marcel continued.

.:11 years ago, 3 months after banishment:.

          Hands trembling, his eyes widened with absolute horror. His lips rest slightly ajar, head throbbing painfully at the sight that lay before him. It traumatized his already fragile mind.
          The friends that Marcel hadn't seen in countless hours were standing off to the side of the horrendously smelling room, stiff as a wooden soldier, with hands locked behind their backs and heads held high. Their own blood dripped steadily from the gashes, burns, and craters in their beaten and bruised flesh. Clotting blood collected into pools on the already red-stained floor. Despite their dead, prideful stares, the expressions ghosting their glazed eyes were nothing but disoriented.
Behind him Craig whimpered with fear. The man who brought them pushed them inside the room, then approached behind Evan and Luke, placing a strong hand on each of their shoulders. His steel, blood stained plague mask only made the scene even more surreal.
"Look closely. They bare the scars of men who fought countless wars. The blood they shed and the images forced into their heads will forever be a part of them. They are nothing but mindless puppets acting on it he orders of the master holding their strings. They will never be the same again."
          He leaned into their faces with the same emotionless glare, "You're nothing but a couple of rejects. You're a useless mutt abandoned in a river, only kept alive because of the lord's need for arms. If you wish to stay alive, tuck your tail, and behave for your masters- or the merciless consequences will soon land you in the ground."