--HOPE--//Dunkirk x Oc//

O n e

Hair

" In war, you are a girl. A girl with long hair. In war, you cannot have long hair. Long hair can be yanked. Grabbed. In war, hair needs to be cut."

I liked my hair. Hell, I loved my hair. I also loved my family. But everything cannot last, can it?
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            The war started long before the soldiers got here. I was at home. I awoke to a bang. A bang, and a light. A bright light. God, so bright. Too bright. I had to squint just so I wouldn't go blind. I used an arm to shield my eyes, still squinting, and called out for my mother.

     "Mum? MUM?!" Panic rose in me. There was no answer. From anyone. The bang had been from a bomb. The bomb hit the house my neighbors used to live in. Though they left months ago. The bomb had still rattled my house though. The house shook. The ceiling started to crumble down on me. I held my arms over my head to protect myself. That's what they taught you in school here in Dunkirk.

Arms over the head. If anything hits your head, there's a 50% chance of death. And fifty percent is too high.

       I proceeded down the hall, calling out for my family. Though my mouth didn't know it, my brain did. They've left you alone to die. You know they never liked you. Never. The tears built up in my eyes. They were supposed to like me. They were supposed to love me. They were my family. A lump rose in my throat. I fell to my knees, covering my mouth with my hand. Who knows who might be in my house, looking to hurt me. Looking to kill me. I wiped my tears and stood. No time. There is no time to cry in war. I knew how to be a good nurse. I knew how to help people. I knew how to help myself. I rushed to my room, the ceiling falling apart above me. I grabbed the biggest backpack I could find, shoving necessities into it while speaking to myself in a sort of checklist.

     "Canned food. Unrefrigerated food. Water bottles. Flashlight. Coat. Gloves. Hand gun. Bandages. Alcohol. Penicillin. First Aid kit. Boots. Pocket knife." I pushed all the items into the bag until nothing more could fit. I slung the backpack over my shoulder, and rushed into the bathroom, raiding any more necessary things from the medicine cabinet. When I shut the cabinet I was met with my own appearance in the mirror. Green eyes. Long, choppy reddish-blond hair. Too long. I flung open the cabinet, hooking my fingers around a pair of scissors. I hesitantly held them up to my ginger tinted locks, fear filling me. I really love my hair. Another loud bang and a huge piece of ceiling crashing to the floor snapped me out of my petty haze, and I quickly pulled my hair, chopping off most of my hair with the scissors. I watched in the mirror as my remaining hair curled up to under my ears. I sniffed, and wiped my nose on the back of my hand, staring at myself through the mirror. I heard another huge bang, and this time, I heard the downstairs front door fall onto the ceramic tile. I jumped.

       "GO! GO! SEARCH THE HOUSE!! TAKE ANY HOSTAGES!!" I heard a heavily-accented voice shout. The people on our side were English. They had accents. But I knew. These people are not on my side. I grabbed the backpack from the top of the toilet, taking one last glance of my bathroom before breaking the window. I heard the footsteps from downstairs get closer, and I locked the door shut, buying me some extra time to try to jump out. I carefully slid my leg out the window, a shard of glass nicking my inner thigh. I sucked in a breath, a stinging feeling coming over where I had been cut. I sucked it up, and thruster my other leg over the side of the window, placing my hands on pointed shards of broken glass to help stabilize myself. I bit back tears, glass cutting into my palms.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!!" A loud man's voice screamed from the other side of the door, and I heard hands slamming against it. I gasped, adrenaline filling me, along with determination to save myself. I ducked under the top of the window, and landed down on the balcony to the first floor. My house had never been tall, so the fall barely hurt. It would've hurt even less if it weren't for the glass shards shoved into my thighs and palms. I heard the men screaming from the top of my house, snapping me into action. I ran down the middle of the town, ignoring the searing pains from my legs.  Tears dropped down my face as I looked around. The town was abandoned. No one was here. The sound of a machine gun being fired filled my ears, and a swiveled towards the noise. I saw an English fort being shot at. Them. I need to go towards them. I started towards the fort, then froze when one of the Englishmen took out a rifle. I put my hands up, racking my brain to remember what to say. They taught us in school. When they think you are an enemy. You say this-

       "I-I-IM ENGLISH!" I sputtered, hoping they'd pick up on my accent. For once I was thankful for my age, knowing if I was any older they would've killed me already. I bit my lip, trying to remember the French way of telling them I'm on their side. "Je...Je Suis An..Anglais!!" I stuttered out. The soldiers lowered their weapons, waving me toward them. I rushed toward them, jumping over the fort. The man who has pointed the gun at me studied my wounds.

     "Ah." He breathed, then pointed down the fort, where behind it there was a large beach, thousands of English soldiers scattered around it. "Médicament." He said. Medicine. I nodded.

     "Je Vous Remercie." I said. "Thank you." The man nodded. I was about to shake his hand when I once again heard gunshots, and the fort racked with bullet holes. I nearly tripped over myself in my hurry to get away, then I spun and rushed to the open beach, falling down onto my knees once I got there. I let all my emotions pour through. I started sobbing. In pain, in grief, in fear.

     And that's how I became a nurse for the English Soldiers.