" Life is a luxury many take for granted- they treat it as a toy. It angers me so, kindles in my being- they do not deserve it, but the lucky ones get to boast. Wearing it on their collarbones like a necklace, while I-I suffer. If you love me, give me something I don't have… P-please."
London. (2010)
The taste of civilian life was bittersweet for the doctor. The constant misadventure, routines that slipped from fingers… everything he once knew before the sand seemed strange. It has nearly been four months since the war-veteran's feet planted on calm cobblestone. And since that time, nothing has been the same- nothing felt normal. Of course not, ever since the higher authority issued a leave- ever since the hot shrapnel pierced through flesh, destroying muscle and bloodlines, the doctor's life was cursed to never be the same. If he could travel back in time, he would, but only on the notion of avoiding that IED, not volunteering to be active in the field that day, allowing the same fate to catch up to him in a latter year. No, he couldn't allow himself to be that selfish. There was some jaded purpose on his return back home, there had to be. Yes there was, his brother, Peter. It has been years since the two seen each other, even talked.
"Peter, if this is still your number- I want to talk to you, to check to see if you are still alright. Just please answer me. This is John, your brother- I am concerned about you. Please take care of yourself."
Another useless attempt to reach out for lost kin. Every message was left unanswered; every call went straight to voice mail. Silent anger, fear, sorrow, and longing bubbled in John's soul, wanting answers on the sudden dial tone between the two. Was it because of the war? The death of beloved parents? What was it! In a huff, John escaped from the warmth of his flat into the frigid downpour of London, sporting pajamas on his bones. The glow of streetlights, illuminated through the rain, allowing some light to guide the soul through the cold tears. With arms folded upon his breast, the lone man wandered the empty streets, clearing his mind from the haze; disconnecting from his surroundings.
Peter please, give me a sign that you are sti-
Sharp, abrupt pain devoured the veteran's leg, the prominent sound of screeching tires could be heard; flight carried John's body for a distance- allowing gravity to fall heavy on his frame. Darkness blinded his eyes, while ringing kept his ears company.
Author's Note: I apologize in advance for the short introductory chapter. I would like to note a couple of things: 1/ Anima is the :Latin word for "life". 2/ I gave John's brother a name, I honestly have no clue if Peter is his actual name, but I guess it will have to do for now.
*This story is purely fan-made, and I apologize for any errors*.