Disclaimers: I don't own any thing associated with twilight
Another gunshot.
Another patient.
Another day in the hell they call War.
The cries of the injured, the cries of the soldiers who have gone insane, are so devastating that they could make any void-of-emotion person cry. Yet for every rule there is an exception. She is the exception. She…with her once curly, ink black hair that now lies limp and lifeless. Her once smoky grey eyes now empty and cold.
Another patient is brought in, grenade explosion they say. His screams are loud enough and painful enough to wake the dead. Yet she doesn't stir. She stares blankly ahead, looking at nothing, not moving a muscle.
Everything and everyone around her moves with purpose, to save those who need saving. Yet she cannot be saved. They move with determination, to save those who are barely in this world. The rise and fall of her chest gives the only indication that she is still in this world. Breathing is painful for most patients, yet she shows no pain.
She feels no pain.
Pain is a foreign word to her.
Pain is a weakness, it slows you down.
A nurse approaches and murmurs something to her. Her expression does not change. The nurse just watches her, waiting for a reaction. The nurse becomes alarmed as the rise and fall of her chest starts to diminish…she calls for help as her breathing becomes shallower…they rush to help her as her heartbeat slows…
The doctors and nurses become panicked as they see her slipping, trying to keep her alive.
Yet she doesn't want to be alive, she doesn't want to be saved.
They tell her, don't give up. Yet she doesn't want to go on.
Her life monitor flat lines and everyone becomes frantic.
One. Two. Three. Breathe. Check. Breathe. Check.
One. Two. Three. Breathe. Check. Breathe. Check.
Still no signs of life from the body on the bed.
One. Two. Three. Breathe. Check. Breathe. Check.
They're going to have to call it soon, if she doesn't respond.
One. Two. Three. Breathe. Check. Breathe. Check.
They're losing hope. As a last result, the doctor thumps her chest with his fist….
…the smallest of gasps is heard and a cheer is sounded.
She's back, they think. She's willing to fight, they think. But they couldn't be more wrong.
She's back because they made her come back…
She doesn't want to be here…
She doesn't want to fight…
What she wants is to be left alone, to waste away to nothing.
She doesn't want to remember…it brings back pain she doesn't want…pain she has tried to hide behind an emotionless cover. Yet it's coming back.
The pain…
The unbearable pain.
Haunted eyes rise in front of her own and she tries to hold back her mountain of tears.
Her cover is slipping and she doesn't want it to. She can feel the tears fighting to be free.
She blinks rapidly to hold them back, yet one slips free.
One…
Lone…
Tear…
It slowly makes a track down her face and into her hair.
A nurse looks at her in pity.
This is why she doesn't want to show pain. This is why she doesn't want to feel pain. She doesn't want the pity. She doesn't need the pity.
She wants to disappear. Disappear from this place, this land and this life.
Nobody will miss her, she has no family to go home to, the doctors and nurses only care for her because they have to, because its their job.
She lies there as still as a statue, thinking about yesterday and what could have been. What could have been if she hadn't gotten onto that train. If she had only listened to her father. Why had she been so stupid and insisted on going by train to the country? Why couldn't she have gone by car like her father had suggested?
But why had he been so stupid and given into her demands? Why couldn't he have been more stubborn and insisted on going in the car?
If he had, she wouldn't be like this and he wouldn't have left her. She would still be willing to live and not wanting to die. She didn't deserve to be here. Not after what she had done to her father. She didn't want to be here knowing that it was her fault that her father met his end as soon as he got onto that train.
The nurse had told her that after the train had been bombed, that they had concentrated on getting the survivors-like her- the medical attention that they needed. Her father had been discovered.
Dead.
She said he would have died straight away, felt no pain. At least she didn't cause him to suffer as he died. She wasn't guilty for making him suffer. Like she was for him being killed.
Like the emotional guilt she felt for the harsh words she lashed at him during the argument, words she meant at the time, yet now fills her with even more guilt. Another reason that she doesn't belong here. Why should she be here when she was the one who caused the beginning of the end of his life?
She just wished that the doctors and nurses would leave her alone so she could go in peace. But they wouldn't let her go. Someone was now constantly checking on her, making sure she didn't try something stupid.
But what do they know? They don't know what it's like to live with this pain, this guilt.
They don't know the meaning of survivor's guilt.
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