Disclaimer:Dont own Mechassualt... Dont own the mechs...all mechs mention in this chapter are created by the mechassualt creators. I am not a Mechassualt creator.
Comments: Sry i havent written lately. I had some stuff going on in my personal life (yes, I do have one). I noticed that no one asked me why I havent been writing, which means lack of people reading my story. Is any one even reading this? o.o
Leaving Home
Troy couldn't sleep that night. He thought of his choices. He could stay home and protect his family, his town, and leave Kyler to die, or he could leave his town, his family, and hope that they would be protected while he was off on his journey to protect Kyler. He could always come back for his family, if they were still alive. Should he take the risk and leave his family or leave his friend to die?
His thoughts became off topic and his sight, blurry as he drifted off to sleep. He had that dream again, the same dream that he had when he was a kid.
"Troy! Please don't......Help!"
There was blood everywhere. Blood covered Troy's whole body. He had his foot stepped on a body missing it's limbs. It wasn't Kyler. It was.....who was it?
He could hear the faint whisper of his own voice, "I swear my revenge......"
He saw flashes of his face, cover in blood, in a mech, biting necks, and just being plain canibalistic, but the dream wasnt done yet. The worst part wasn't done.
He pulled out a knife from his pocket. Three people standing in the room. Troy, Mallorie, and another middle-aged man. He want for the other man first pinning him on the ground and slowly cutting his chest open, and with a final jab to the side of the head he got off the limp body and headed for Mallorie.
"Why?" He asked as he raised the knife above his head and quickly bringing it down over Mallorie.
Troy awoke, covered in sweat. Would the dreams become real? Were the dreams that he had as a kid real? If so, he couldn't stay here. He had to leave. for the sake of his famiy, he had to. In his dream, he had such hate, yet a passion for it. Loving to hate. He looked over to his wife and jumped out of the bed as if he was afraid that he thought he'd kill her there and then. He had to leave.
He started packing his stuff, trying not to wake his wife, trying not to look at her. The bottom of his dresser lay a dagger. The one that his father bought him at the age of 12 when his father finally thought he was old enough to have one. The blade was a little less then a foot and was still shiny and smooth. He didnt know why, but he put it in the suitcase with the other luggage. Once he was all packed he took a glance at Mallorie. He coudn't leave without saying good-bye.
He first went into the kids' room where he saw J.R., Sam, and Jesse lying in their beds for the last time. He gave them each a kiss on the cheek and as he shut the door he whispered, "I love you" while tears streamed down his face.
He went back into the room where he saw Mallorie, lying so sweetly and peacefully in the bed. At the sight of here face, he didnt want to leave home, but he knew he had a friend, lying awake in a jail cell, that needed him. He gently shoke her, trying not to completly wake her. Squinted eyes proved his success.
"Mallorie, tell the kids that I said good-bye and that I love them," tears streamed down his face, but no whimpher he made, "I love you, and I will come back for you." With that he left to the pick up his friend, to head off on there journey of sacrifice, hate, regret, blood, and tears with no prevail...