Title: The Wind Cried
Summary: Hawkeye at his lowest during the war.
Notes: This is very short. The title comes from Starsailor's 'Telling Them'. Boy, this is angsty and depressing!
I'd been feeling this way longer than I could even remember.
Days blending into one. It used to happen with the heavy casualties or the drawn out days of nothingness. Now it happened every day.
I've been here too long and as much as I want it, I still can't leave.
A walking, living nightmare is what I've fallen into. I can't think of a worse place than here. I can't even imagine going home. I won't go home, the piece of me left, the piece that hasn't been eaten away by the terrors I've seen, that's what my dad will get back home.
But even that small piece of me left, it gets smaller every day.
Every time that another patient dies whilst we operate.
Every time a kid dies before even getting into the OR.
Every time they die at the aid station before they get here.
Every time they're killed outright in the middle of a field.
So what will be left of me when I go home? I don't know.
I can't know what awaits me tomorrow, because everyday that I remain here, in hell.
I die.
End