Before us...

Chapter Thirteen

After dinner, they had parted ways and taken solace behind their bedroom doors, eager to put the events of the night out of their heads. Milo had walked straight to his room and locked the door behind him before burying his head underneath his pillows to hide from the world. It was not even a case of been interrogated that had led to his current position. Jensen was simply trying to get to know his neighbours. No, Milo was angry at himself for the way he acted and the lack of response he had to such a simple question. He was not ashamed of his time in the army, far from it he was proud. However, events that led him to the army had often been brought up after delivering that answer and he would then revert to hating himself, all sense of pride would fly away from him, like birds before a storm.

It was exposure he felt. He feared being outed as the terrible being he had been forced its way to the surface, tricking him into believing that was who he was and he did not want his neighbours to see him in that light. Milo felt it was bad enough that his father did, he could not handle it if he was judged so soon after striving for a fresh start with strange faces. Lila, for example. Her words had soothed him at the time, but now he felt himself worrying about her. What had she seen or done that had allowed her to have so much wisdom. So much insight about such obvious pain in Milo? The women, once again, clouded his thoughts and he wonder if she was thinking about him. Perhaps she understood him more than he was willing to accept and the prospect of a similar story to his belonging to her angered him. He was too invested too soon he thought but his worry would not cease.

Milo sat up and removed his jacket and shirt from his body letting them drop carelessly to the ground, his boots soon following, as he rolled the duvet back and climbed into the cold bed. His head returned to its previous position underneath the pillow cascading darkness over his eyes, the fight for sleep overcoming him.

He fought for hours but it never came, and he felt colder as the minutes ticked by. His long legs tangled in his sheets as he tossed and turned, but his mind refused to shut off. Lifting his head out from under his pillow, he saw that it was only two in the morning and he groaned before throwing his pillow at the pesky clock rolling onto his back once more. At least when he was haunted by his dreams, he managed to get some semblance of sleep.

But his mind would not stop turning over possible scenarios of Lila in his position. Of seeing things that he had seen, of losing someone like he had lost James or perhaps she had been the one who had been let down in the same way Milo had hurt James. His mind screamed these possibilities at him whilst he lay defenceless and unmoving in his bed, staring up at the blank ceiling, an equally clear expression on his face. But his mind kept on screaming.

No longer in his bed, he stood on the dancefloor in the club with every fellow partier surrounding him in a circle with Milo dead centre. They stared at him with blank faces and blackened eyes as he looked from one person to the next, noticing that every single man and women was pittered with black splotches of mud, sand falling from their heads as they followed his movements. They moved closer and closer, backing him up against a pillar which released a pair of sharp barbed wires that wrapped around him and pulled him tight against the large, concrete wall. The wire dug into his poor abused skin, puncturing his body as he screamed and struggled for release from his bonds. The crowed neared, sneering at him as they advanced closer to his terrified form.

Hands tipped with copper nails reached for him and scratch at him the closer they got, catching the flesh of his Cheek as they swiped blindly at him, drawing more and more blood from his tired body. They stopped suddenly, and the crowd parted allowing one smallish man to crawl through on his hands and knees, dragging his broken feet behind him. Milo thrashed against his bonds harder as James neared and floated to his damaged feet, swinging wildly towards him with wide eyes. He shot over fast, soon standing face to face with his old friend and searched his face. James laughed heartily when Milo lowered his head in shame and fear.