Make Love, Make War (Tayley) |

NRA

Hayley healed for the next week, visiting Taylor's room every day twice. He still hasn't woken up. At this point, it's almost December, and the air of Vietnam is crisp and chilly, and Hayley refuses to go anywhere without at least a light jacket.

One day, Sunday, Hayley went back into the room. Taylor was breathing lightly, hooked up to a small machine to regulate his breathing. Hayley sighed, sweeping the floor with a broom before going over to the bed. She pecked him slightly on the forehead, and left.

Hayley wasn't sure what she'd do without him. Taylor was how she found what she wanted to do with her life, how she came to Vietnam. Was anything worth it without him?

Days went on, and so did weeks. For some reason, the other nurses didn't decide to pull the plug on him yet, and Hayley visited him every day still. Maybe they saw.

One day, another attack happened. Two Soviet soldiers came for their ally, the Vietnamese soldier Hayley had helped healed.

It was a peaceful and uneventful day. Hayley slept late and ate a large breakfast. She got some paper and went back to her bunk, constructing a letter to her half-siblings, making sure they wouldn't worry about her. That their big sister will come home soon.

When she was wrapping up her last paragraph, a loud gun rang in her ears, and she flinched as she jumped out the bed. There was screaming, but like the morning Taylor was shot. Hayley rushes outside, and two soldiers were hailing bullets around the camp, hatred in their eyes.

One pointed at a fellow nurse, who was frozen in terror. Hayley pushes her out of the way just in time, so the soldiers turned his gun slightly to the left, shooting her twice in her chest and arm. She tried to scream, but she couldn't hear anything come out of her mouth.

She fell back, and everything turned black.