The rain fell harshly around me, each one exploding like a small bomb. My red uniform was now stained an ugly, muck color. I felt the urge to vomit as my stomach turned inside out. The blood of my dead soldiers lay about by my crumbled body. Puddles of blood spewed around them, I let my face fall into my hands. The reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I had lost. Not only the war, but my brother as well.
My grandfather clock singing its deep tune, I sat upright on my king bed. I woke up on the fourth of July, feeling tears just begging to slide down my face in agony. The day that always caused me such pain, and it made my soul crack. Turning my head towards the window, I slid off the silk sheets. Placing my fingers delicately on the double mirror, I listened to the piercing echoes of the outdoors. 'It's raining.'
Droplets of water spilled down my face, as my palm stuck to the glass. Replicating the thousands of prints already painted onto the window, my ears flickered at the sound of the phone. Stepping away from the site, I reached for the ringing sound.
"H-Hello? This is England."
I couldn't believe it. Did I just stutter? Neck rotating towards the mirror hanging on the wall behind me, I viewed myself give a harsh slap on my left cheek with my empty hand. Watching the red mark form, I waited for a response from the other line.
"Hey Eyebrows! Just wanted to wish you a Happy Fourth of July!"
'A Happy Fourth of July?'
"Of course America. Congratulations."
With that said, I slammed the device back in place with all my strength. 'Why does he do it? Why does he call every damn year?'