Animosity

Chapter 15 - Frozen in Fear

Photo: A young Viet Cong soldier radios in to the rest of his squadron, ducking behind a small trench as bombs explode in the dirt nearby.

—

"God, Hank, I'm so sorry."

He shook his head softly, never even slowing as he stepped through the grass, face turned away from me as he walked ahead. We had switched positions from when we first cut through the fields, taking the same path we had hours ago, but this time, there was no sunny music accompanying us. Instead, a bleak sense of anger and sadness hung in the crisp air like a cloud, and I stumbled on a rough patch in the ground as I struggled to catch up with Hank.

He gave a bitter, barking laugh, and responded to my earlier statement with a flat voice. "Don't be."

Sensing the hurt plaguing his words, I sighed, my brain trying to conjure up something, anything, to say to make him feel better. I hated seeing him like this, trying to act tough and banish his emotions from his head, but inside, I could tell the news had shaken him. Moving along the path farther, the last rays of the evening sun cast long shadows on the farmland, stretching mine out grotesquely, and I let my eyes wander to the back of Hank's head.

"Hank... you don't have to push everything aside." I argued softly, my words met with an angry scoff. "It's okay to feel sometimes. I actually heard it's better to—-"

He whirled around angrily, startling me, stopping me in my tracks, and he jabbed a single slender finger in my direction. His face was furious, words ice-cold, and the instant I saw them blazing in the light of the dying sun, I knew I made a mistake.

"Fine, you want me to feel? I'll fuckin' feel." He began, the strangled sound of his voice somehow freezing me in place. I was terrified at the outburst, but I wasn't sure why as I locked eyes with him.

"Peter was an asshole. I hated him. I hated him." He spat. "Him and the rest of my brothers made my life a living nightmare for 18 fuckin' years before I finally moved out, alright? Pete was the worst one out of all of them. Always had something to say, something to make me feel like shit for. He was the model child, the perfect shining star in my parents' life, and it was sickening to know that I could never even get within an inch of approval. He abandoned me as soon as he left the house. I was never close to him, ever! That motherfucker wasn't even my brother!"

        His loud, angry yells echoed through the field, and I winced when I heard them, the fury in his voice directed at me. Bringing my hands up in defense, I prepared to shakily answer back, but his obviously irate face fell as he realized the weight of what he had just said. Sighing deeply, he moved a little closer to me, gripping the edge of his rifle tightly as he spoke again, this time softer and much more sad.

        "But... but I still can't help feeling horrible about everything. I didn't need to like him, but he was my brother, my blood brother, and the fact that he's dead... it scares me. It scares me how he could have been laughing and mocking me a couple of years ago and then dead in the blink of an eye. All of us, all of us, could end up like that, like Peter, and there isn't a damn thing in the world that we could do to change that. Pete didn't plan on getting killed, he just was, and that could happen to you and me at any moment. I hated him, but... I'm going to miss him so much. Jesus Christ... mum and dad are going to— to—"

        He faltered, hands trembling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Sucking in a breath of air softly, I ventured closer towards him, a shaky hand reached out towards his furious form. It hurt me to see him like this, so much sadness in his expression, and I wanted desperately to make him happy again, to see the same soft smile that he had proudly displayed earlier. Wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his knuckles, he attempted to turn away from me to hide his tears, but I stepped forward quickly, wrapping my arms around him.