Rebuilding My Life

Chapter 2- The Pain

 Hayden Wolfe>>> Justin Timberlake

Chapter 2- The Pain

-HAYDEN POV-

I pulled his body into a corner and covered it with a tarp I had found on the floor, and prayed that the building would not collapse and bury his body. I stood again, wincing as the pain registered in my brain and limped to the entrance. Shots suddenly rang out and I slammed against the wall, grimacing at the impact. I peeked out in time to spot the sharpshooter that had shot Ash. I felt angry, so angry, that he was the one who killed my best friend. Stealthily, I aimed my rifle at him and fired, watching with sick satisfaction as he looked down at himself in shock, before flopping onto the floor, twitching slightly.

I wanted to grin, to whoop with joy, but all I felt was disgust. I was no better than a murderer if I took joy in a person’s death. They were human too. Pushing myself off the floor my eyes sweeping the opposite blocks, shooting any enemies in sight. I moved as fast as I could, without crumpling from the pain in my leg, and crouched behind a blown up building, getting a clear view of the events unfolding.

We were locked in a standstill. Both sides had an important hostage and were warning each other to surrender, or else. If I was watching a movie, I would have rolled my eyes at the sight, but this was real life, and I could not afford to roll my eyes, for my General would then be dead.

I realized I was still hidden, and aimed carefully at our enemy’s head, being careful not to accidentally shoot our commander. I pulled the trigger, and a soft “phhut” was heard. I watched, grimly, as the person holding General Levesque hostage dropped dead. Everyone was stunned, but the General moved quickly into safety, dragging the leader with him. Our enemy had no choice but to surrender. I gave a quiet whoop of joy, and limped out of my hiding spot, smirking victoriously. The General laughed, a deep throaty laugh as our comrades moved in to clear the building and arrest the terrorists.

“Good job son, where’s…” He asked, then noticed my expression change in a blink. His eyes softened and he patted me sympathetically. I could not hold it in anymore. I crumpled, tears flowing uncontrollably. My comrades looked at me and understood immediately. So there I was, crying my eyes out, when another soldier, Nate, walked over and pulled me up.

“Where is he Hayden?” He asked gently.

Unable to speak, I just pointed towards the general direction of the building, the scalding tears rendering me temporarily blind.

“Look at that, the big bad soldier is mourning for his lost friend,” A mocking voice spat in rough English.

I turned around and glared hatefully at the leader, who was smirking. I raised my fist, planning to beat him to within an inch of his life, but a firm hand stopped me. I turned, my eyes still blazing with anger. The anger died instantly when I saw whom it was.

“He’s not worth it. Just leave the bastard be,” General Levesque said calmly. Hands still shaking, I limped over to the medics, who rushed to get the bullet out of my leg.

I screamed, the sting from the alcohol on my open flesh giving me an excuse to release the pain I felt. It was excruciating, the guilt of causing his death creating a noose around my neck, a vise around my heart. Subconsciously, I wondered how I would tell Sabelle. They had married young, and up till now were still madly in love. I jerked involuntarily when they wrapped the gauze round my upper thigh. That was the worst injury I had. Luckily it was only a flesh wound. If it had hit a bone I would not have been able to move. They cleaned the cuts and applied medicine, before releasing me, all the while encouraging me to go visit a counselor. I didn’t blame them. When I looked into the mirror I barely recognized myself. I looked hurt, hardened, and a little crazed. Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and centered myself. When I looked at myself again, the crazed look was gone, thankfully, but the guarded look was there, and deeper within my eyes I could see the hurt and guilt, brewing just under the surface. 

I continued staring, until Nate called me out. I hobbled out of the medic’s tent only to see his body being carried carefully from the building. I heard a strangled sound and wondered what it was when I heard about it again then realized it was me. It sounded like a wounded cat screaming silently in pain. That’s how I feel right now, I mused in my head.

We celebrated our victory, but I wasn’t celebrating. Inside, I was still mourning for my lost friend, my brother, and I would not, could not, celebrate, until I could rid myself of this strangling feeling.

Downing another shot of vodka, I pushed myself off the stool, a little unsteady already, and made my way to the barracks.

 I threw what few clothes I had, randomly into my bag, and told the General I had to go. I had to tell Sabelle of the news. I did not know if I even could, not without mentally destroying myself at having to recount the entire story.

As I got onto the plane bound for New York, I felt as if my entire body weighed a million tons, my feet dragging on the cold hard road, my heart sinking with each dismal step. The flight was long, and I fell into a fitful sleep, images and memories of good times with Ashton flying into my broken mind, and I woke up screaming, right after Ashton was shot. I looked around frantically, then relaxed when I realized I was in a plane, on my way home.

We were here. I was literally standing on Sabelle’s doorstep, shaking in my combat boots. The landing and immigration was smooth, no hiccups as we were from the Army. As I raised my hand to knock the door, my hand was shaking so badly I had to use both hands to knock the door soundly.

I waited, guilty as hell, and feeling extremely terrified of her reaction, when she opened the door.