It All Came Falling Down

eight

    I was a war-torn soldier; that’s what I told Hero. Ever since the War broke out, everything I had came falling down. I told her about how I hadn’t been home in years. How my parents were killed in a car accident. How my wife, Haisley Forde, was a volunteer field doctor who was killed in a friendly fire bombardment, and how I still dedicated her letters, which I could never send. I talked to Hero about countless comrades and allies killed in action in a long war with a cause I had begun to doubt. I’ve seen way too many war crimes, which goes against the very doctrines we hold, but blind eyes are turned to them. I’ve killed and hurt too many people— innocent people. When Haisley, a good doctor who saved lives instead of taking them, was killed two years ago, I realised that war was not something to have in the name of Esdrusia’s glory. People die, whether they’re soldiers or not. War has made me a bad soldier with a conscience, and it makes me different from those who blindly follow orders from what I was beginning to see as corrupt leadership. Good soldiers follow orders, not their own free will. 
    “It’s great that you can see through a web of lies and propaganda,” said Hero. “I can only pray that more Esdrusians are like you, but nevertheless, I believe the war will end soon. The Resistance has exerted all of its strength in the last ambush, and your ‘Freedom Forces’ have conquered most of our nation. Ahh! I’m sorry. I rant and scream sometimes because this war is absolutely nothing but stressful.”
    “I understand,” I told her, nodding. “Why did you join the Resistance?”
    “To defend my country, of course. After Battor’s military was destroyed, we Anfarians needed to organise a fighting force,” Hero replied boldly. “It’s better to serve and die for a just cause than die alone and without meaning. Besides, Savalan Battor was a good man, who did none of the things Esdrusia accuses him of.”
    “You sound very proud of it,” I commented.
    “I am. I am one of the Resistance’s most dedicated fighters, Kanston.”
    We sat in silence for some minutes before I broke the quietness. “You’re an excellent hugger, by the way.”
    Hero burst out in laughter. Through the tears in her eyes, I could tell she was reminiscing. After a short pause, she spoke. “I used to have a good friend, before all of this. Oftentimes, he’d sneak up to my bedroom window and beg me to dance with him under the streetlights. And then, when I least expected it, he’d wrap his arms around me so tight and yell, ‘SQUEEZE!’ He did that in school too, back when we were students.”
    “What was his name?” I asked.
    Hero trembled, her arms weakened. So many tears fell from her eyes, creating diverging streams on her cheeks. And she just cried and cried; behind that warrior façade, she was still a young woman with emotions and a loving heart. She stood up and took my hand, holding it between both of hers. “Come on,” she told me through sniffles. “I want to show you something.”
    I followed her as she dashed out of the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. There was a long ladder there, which led to a small trapdoor. “Hurry up!” she said loudly, climbing up first. Pushing open the little door, she revealed a trapezoidal rooftop. The middle of the roof was a narrow rectangular shape, while on both sides of it was a slanted surface that led downwards. 
    A tranquil breeze blew through, cooling the typically warm Anfarian climate. I climbed through the hole, and Hero held my hand again as we took a seat next to each other in that narrow section. Looking up at the sky, I realised that we had gone to the rooftop just in time to catch the sunset. The sky was clear and golden-blue, with varying shades of natural beauty in different parts.  
    “Sometimes,” began Hero, “I come up here when I’m sad or stressed, usually alone or with my brother; I haven’t taken anyone else up here. I love the sunset because it calms my heart. Even now, amidst all the death and destruction, I still see the beauty in the sky. It reminds me of better days when the smoke from the other houses came from chimneys and not mortar strikes… when not a thing was hate and all was peaceful, and the next day would be the same. I would be so entranced up here that I could hear mother shout from downstairs to stop lingering and go to the dining room for supper. All the while, my drunkard of a father was not home, but instead, left his negativity in the tavern where he was wasting his life away. The peace, of course, never lasted forever; it was only during the period before my father came home with his foul breath and struck us with glass bottles. Still, it gave me hope, and the strength to remove my father from our seemingly perfect and functional household, literally and figuratively speaking. Just my mother, my younger brother, and I. He came up here once, to beat my brother, but I was too overwhelmed with everything he had done. So I fought him, and he fell over the edge.”
    I smiled, genuinely this time, listening to her tell me about the past. This was one of those ‘light in the darkness’ moments, and those leave me in a state of true content. Even though it might not last long, it was something to enjoy during tough times and trials. Hero’s hands held one of mine tightly, and her head leaned on my shoulder, while I leaned gently on the top of her head. I could feel her tears soaking my uniform, but I didn’t care. This was perhaps the best thing any human being could wish for during these never-ending days. It was peace in the storm, love despite the hate, and clarity within the chaos. And for once, in years since everything I had came falling down, I felt stability for once; it was a magnificent distraction from the War. I glanced down and, even with the sorrow and the pain of war, I noticed her smile as bright as the sun, which we watched fall slowly and routinely beneath the distant horizon, in total serenity and silence.