Brother

Two more

"And it's hard to be a human being
And it's harder as anything else"

&

"And I'm never lonesome when I'm by myself"

(Baby Blue Sedan by Modest Mouse)

              After eating, we all laid in our beds. I'll be gone in two days. Two more days of this, and I'll be over with. Done, gone and rested.
Dinner was silent and not much happened other than eating. I enjoyed the food, in camp we never had fresh food. After we ate, we were sent to our beds, and now here I am.
This bed is pretty comfortable compared to the beds (if you even want to call it that) we had back at camp.
Back into the bed I slept in four years ago. I want the world to be the same, for everything to pick up where it left off.

But it won't. It never will. I need to accept that this isn't my home anymore, my family are strangers and life is different.

I lay stiffly in the bed. I'm still in the very same clothes my mother offered me when I came home. Which is an old pair of my jeans, and a shirt of my dads. The jeans are too short, and too small.

I can't sleep. I don't know if it's because the jeans, I'm not used to this bed, my head or how cold it is.

This house feels the same as it does outside. Below freezing. It's not snowing. Not now, at least.

With deciding that I should change out of the clothes that smell like the home I once had, I changed into the clothes that I got from camp.

They are much more fitting, and keeps me little warmer. But they are black, army style and has the official patch of the Regrime.  

The patch is a circle, outlined in gold. The background is red, and in the middle is a Raven. The Regrime's national bird is a raven. Used as a sign of death and war.

Other than the patch, the outfit is plain and simple, completely black. So even if we happened to get blood on us, no one would notice.

I can't sleep. I'm going for a walk.

I get up, the bed screams and I move slower. I don't want to wake anyone. I grab my boots, which are also black, and sit down to put them on.

After they are tied tight, I stand and dust myself off.

With the darkness and the change of the house, I struggle to get out without running into anything.

Once I'm out, the wind hits me. It's cold and bitter, and I can't help but to feel like I deserve the cold and all the sickness that comes with it.

I want the bacteria to take over my immune system. I want to get a deadly cough that'll kill me for what I've done. My name should have been left on that wall, for all the dead soldiers. I should not be here, breathing. I should not have a medal saying good job for killing. I should've let myself die in that war, I should have-

"Hey." A voice calls out. Sounds far away, like she's screaming. I hear the pounding of the footsteps too, so I look behind me.

I look around in surprise. I'm already on the beach about two miles away from the house.

The sand is glowing in the dark, and few bags of trash line the shore.

A girl is running to me. Blonde. Tall. Pretty.

Ivory, I automatically think.

Once she's merely just a couple feet away, she stops and walks up to me.

Her hand stretches out too. Waiting for me. This time I don't stare, I just shake it back.

Her hand is cold, and small. Her nails are short, and that confirms that she does outside work. But they aren't dirty, so I'd say she cares about hygiene.