Hero

It was the middle of the night. I woke up shaking with fear and sweating cold. A nightmare had hit me again, it was one of those nightmares where all I could see was blood and all I could feel was the burning heat of the flames of evil fire surrounding me grenade after grenade. My mind was closed with thoughts of pain and violence. One more grenade yet hit us and I was burning in the burning hell of grief. Cries of fear echoed around me. Voices of scared children and an innocent women, both frightened to no end, came attacking me from all directions and made my heart pound right out of my chest. I was afraid. Afraid of death and of blood but what I feared most was becoming the killer of people that struggled to protect their loved ones. I was not a killer and I would not become one.

A single cry caught my attention, it was far from me. I tried to look through the smoke when I felt a bullet pierce my leg. I let out a scream of agony as I fell to the ground and landed on my shoulder. I took a glance down and caught sight of the wound which was now soaked in blood. A wave of dizziness hit me, but that did not stop me from turning my head to look for the source of the heartbreaking cry. It was a small bundle of dirty and torn blankets, the poor child could not have been more than a year old; two at the most. I yelled for help with the little strength I had but it was useless. I was desperate to reach that bundle into my arms and it had been since it had caught my attention, but I started slipping into darkness. I cried and sobbed like a little kid hoping someone would get to me. It was all to no use, for everything was fading away all too quickly and blurriness overcame me. I was covered with a shadow that was calling my name, but I only heard it as a distant echo right before I finally slipped into a restless sleep.

My train of thought was interrupted when I heard a soft pit-pat on the floor approaching my door and stopping before it. That was the last thing I heard before the world in front of me faded away once more.

I woke up by a wet cloth being pressed to my forehead. The foul smell of sweat, dirt, and blood was everywhere and it wasn't until I looked down that I found out my bandaged leg was

one of the sources of one of them. A nurse was standing behind my head and two men were on each side of me in stretchers just like the one I was on. One of them lay unconscious but as I took a closer look, I was surprised to find that the man on my right was my friend Adam who was getting his head stitched up, but he seemed to be fine. All of a sudden, I sat up abruptly and began to breathe heavily as if I had forgotten how to do so. I started panicking as I remembered the last events I had gone through before passing out. Adam looked at me and grinned softly before placing a hand on my chest and gently pushing me down on my back, and he told me to rest.

"I got him," he whispered with a grin.

His words soothed me. I simply nodded slightly in response and let him help me lie on my back. My heavy eyelids drooped and exhaustion consumed me in seconds. I fell asleep in no time. Everything remained black for a good amount of time, but I did not rest much.

I felt as I had just closed my eyes when I was waken up by Adam shaking me a little bit.

"How are you feeling, mate?" He asked me softly with the tender smile that rarely ever left his face.

I shrugged slightly and looked around. I discovered I wasn't in that filthy, crowded tent anymore, I was in the hospital. I was back in my country. How I had missed my home, my land. He seemed to notice my change of mood, but I didn't. It was when he let out a small chuckle that I noticed I was grinning. He walked away from the bed and I saw him bend down to pick something up. He was still wearing his army uniform, so I figured the war was still going on if it hadn't just ended barely some time ago. He stayed where he was, now standing up but his back still facing him.