War.

I didn't understand this war, I didn't want to fight in it.

But, it wasn't my choice. When I was drafted in, there was no use resisting. I knew the right thing to was to fight, but it wasn't in my heart to do it.

The helmet barely fit my 17 year old head, the only thing keeping it on me was a small strap around my chin. The gun burned a hole in my hand, I didn't want it. They barely trained me before shipping me out to the front lines, with other confused teenagers. Some even YOUNGER than me. Where we were stationed, ugh, the sun was completely unforgivable. We had just fought to claim this land, so while we were setting up I was expected to do rounds, make sure everything was clear. Reinforcements would be sent in soon, but we lost so many in the last fight...

I wanted to be sick, I hadn't even used my gun once, just bandaging others wounds and pulling people from the line of sight. My mind wasn't even paying attention as I turned a corner to the back of our site, trudging along in a slight jog. My eyes were on my feet, getting lost in my own pattern as I hit someone, falling back in shock.

I rubbed my head, looking up and offering an apology, "Ồ xin lỗi! Cậu không sao chứ?"

The American just froze, eyes wide and locked onto me.