Well, it's been forever, hasn't it? Mainly because I was a lazy butthole again. Oh well. I heard the song Welcome To My Life by Simple Plan, and thought of Grif and Caboose. Enjoy...or cry yourself to death. Either one.
EDIT: Well, someone reviewed and mentioned something about the site's policies, so I had to change it partially because they were respectful about it, partially because it's actually very true, and partially because I'm a bit paranoid of getting my stuff removed. -_-" So that's why this may not seem as good as the last one.
Caboose entered his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He wasn't sure if he could take this life anymore. Church, his "best friend", hated him, and Tucker just didn't care. Sheila didn't know his problems; she wouldn't understand anyway since she was a tank. Caboose doubted Tex had any sympathy for anyone, even someone broken as he was.
Nobody would ever understand his pain, how hurt he was, or even Caboose himself. They didn't even try anyway, they had always thought of him as too stupid to try to understand or reach out to.
Caboose did his best to smile every day, to make it look like nothing was wrong. They always bought it. Then they would go right back to calling him names and torturing him with their words and willingness to ignore him. Caboose smiled through it all and pretended he didn't understand. It was the easiest thing for him to do.
Caboose knew that there couldn't be anyone who knew what it felt like to be ignored, hurt, and laughed at for his flaws.
Yet Caboose didn't know how wrong he was. At the other end of the canyon, at red base, someone was suffering just as bad as he was.
Grif would have let out a yelp of pain if the kick to the gut by Sarge hadn't winded him. With a final insult, Sarge left the room. Grif covered his face with his arms, whimpering pitifully. He hated how everyone threw insults at him casually like he wasn't capable of giving a crap. Grif had tried for so long to give off that appearance.
But Sarge saw right through his disguise. Sarge saw all the pain in Grif's eyes. And he loved to see it. He beat Grif verbally and physically, and the orange soldier felt like he was at the point of shooting himself in the head, ending all of this pain.
Grif hated who he was almost more than Sarge did. He hated how weak he was. He hated that his family didn't even give a crap about him. Nobody liked him, not even himself.
Grif finally got up and limped over to a mirror. His tan complexion was covered with many bruises and cuts that were still bleeding. One of his hazel eyes was half closed due to a black eye. His brown hair was matted with dry blood and trails of wetness on his cheeks showed that he had been crying. Grif never bothered treating the injuries; he left that job to Simmons or Donut, whenever they felt like showing a bit of sympathy to him (which was rarely).
Now the orange soldier retreated to his bed. He dug out his iPod from under the mattress, as well as a pair of orange and black headphones. Tears came to Grif's eyes as he remembered the only person who ever cared about him in his life.
Grif put the headphones over his head, wincing when they touched a bump that was beginning to form. He fast forwarded to his favorite song to listen to after Sarge's beatings. Grif got in his bed and pulled the covers over him. He eventually cried himself to sleep by the end of the song, wishing that somebody would actually care about his problems for once.
If Grif's seems sadder than Caboose, don't blame me. Tucker did it. Just kidding. Maybe it's because everyone likes Caboose, and lately, I just pity Grif...a lot. To the point where I wanna hug him. Okay I'mma stop now. Byes!
~TheAlmightyFireHawk