They say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes…

But what if your death is long and drawn out?

Do you get to see more of your life… is it more detailed?

The answer is yes.

But it's never been proven…

Because no one's ever survived death.

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I watched as Duke and the blonde chick… Samantha, flirted over the corpse like fucking middle-schoolers…

It was sickening.

I'm glad I lost consciousness when I did.

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I was sitting in the barracks alone when Goat came in. I went back to cleaning my gun, figuring he would go and read his bible, like normal…

But he didn't.

He sat down at the end of my bed. I looked up from my book with one eyebrow raise.

"I didn't think I was your type." I joked… Goat wasn't like that. He was the kind of guy who was quiet, but if he saw a woman being harassed by some fucknut he would be the first to beat the shit out of the guy… as by evidence of what he did to some shithole named Portman last week when the dickfuck went into detail of what his horny needle prick wanted to do to me. Not that I couldn't defend myself or anything…

It was just funnier watching Goat kick his ass.

Portman, reportedly, couldn't hit a target straight for a week.

"Why are you in hell?" He asked, staring intently at me. I didn't need to ask what he meant… I knew. The question was… do I tell him.

Fuck it all, I couldn't lie to him, he could see right through the lies to the truth that was hiding underneath… pretty fucking poetic for a Marine, huh?

So I sat my gun down, crossed my legs, and stared him directly in the eyes.

I told him about my family. How my bastard of my father left when I was barely a month old, then came crawling back into my life as a rich man who just needed me for his presidency campaign. How my mom had remarried an old drunk who would knock me around ever now and then. How much I idolized my brother, but hated him all the same. I hated him because my mother expected me to be just as much the Golden Child as he was. How, after my grandma died when I was ten, the only true mother I ever had died along with her. How my so called mom could care less that I was in a destructive relationship at eighteen. How the mother fucking bastard assaulted me and all she said was that I shouldn't have pissed him off… and that I sure as hell shouldn't have kicked him in the balls. About how the fuckshit tried to rape me, but I kicked his ass so hard that he ran off with his tail between his legs. I told him how much my mom cried when I told her he and I broke up, and how much she tried to get us back together even though I told her what he tried to do. I told him the only person in the world who ever cared about me was the one who I was competing with all my life… my brother.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I said this… relived the worst parts of my life… I was a Marine… but I couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer. No matter how hard I tried, those fucking crocodile tears started to fall… fucking human emotions… all Marines would be better off without them.

But he didn't care. In fact, he put an arm around me and rubbed my back until the tears turned into those fucking hiccupping things that hurt your chest. He looked at me then read to me from his bible.

I told Goat that if there was a God, he had abandoned me a long time ago.

He pulled out a yellowed card that looked like it had seen better days. It was torn, and very well loved, some would say.

It had a simple verse on it, one that had gotten him through the worst of times, and now he hoped it would guide me through the struggles I had ahead.

I stared at the card for a long time; I didn't know what to make of it. Since my life as a Marine had started, I had left all those thoughts and emotions back with my old shity fucking life… but now they all seemed to be coming back, no matter how hard I tried to fight them off.

Goat saw this… Goat knew this.

He rubbed my shoulder…

"Keep it." He said.

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After that, Goat and I became closer. He became the father I never had, and I became the daughter he never would have. Duke and Destroyer became my brothers, Mac became my friend, and as for John… well, John was just John. Sarge was always a kind of mystery to me. One minute he was just one of the guys, the next he was a dick.

But you don't tell him that to his face…

Unless you want your gun shoved so far up you ass you'll be spitting bullets…

I'm not sure that was physically possible, but I wasn't about to find out.

DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM

Gunshots, Sam screaming, Duke's yelling, an unearthly growl.

My eyes shot open like fucking cannons.

"Getting a little cozy down there, huh?" I rasped a tease at Sam and Duke as they lay tangled on the floor.

"Baby girl?" Duke helped Sam up and then walked over to me. "How you doing, Cowboy?" Cowboy is my call sign in case you couldn't figure that out. I coughed.

"Fan-fucking-tastic… could be better though." I said… it was getting harder to breath.

"You just take it easy, baby girl." He said as he grabbed my hand. "Anything ya' need?"

"Water." I rasped out. Sam came over with a cup and Duke helped me sit up to take a drink. Fuck, I was like a fucking quadriplegic. I felt my throat trying to close as I drank… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Duke laid me back down… I started to shiver.

"Here." Sam covered me up with a blanket. She reminded me of John a lot. He was just like her, but he hid it behind his tough Marine attitude. Sam, on the other hand, wore her heart on her sleeve.

I used to be like that, but it got me fucking nowhere.

I closed my eyes and drifted back into the past.

DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM

I had been with the guys for eight months. They had given me the nickname of Cowboy. Why? Because one night, we were out at the bar and this ancient jukebox, which still ran on CDs, was playing an ancient Garth Brooks song, "That girl is a Cowboy." … yeah, like Reaper says, "They're Marines, not poets."

On my twenty-first birthday, the guys took me out for my first legal drink. I was so shit faced I don't remember most of the night… or the morning after. I do remember someone carrying me to my room… I don't remember who, but I know it wasn't Goat… he wasn't wearing the right cologne.

God, I wanted to fucking die the next day.

I swore I would never drink like that again, and I didn't…

Until that one leave we had during the fourth of July… that was fun… what I remember about it at least. But apparently liquor and fireworks don't go too well together… and apparently it's a federal offence to set a forest on fire...

Who knew?

Then there was that time after the WWE event that the franchise had given us free tickets to us, just because we were in the military… and the guys didn't think I knew anything about wrestling.

Fucknuts.

Shows what they know. They didn't even know what a full nelson or a half Boston crab was… amateurs. We had a great time afterwards… like a family should.

I still remember the night when this ragtag bunch of fuck-ups became my family…

DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM

"Cowboy!" Duke yelled. I didn't answer; I had my headphones in my ears. It wasn't that I didn't hear him.

I heard him loud and clear…

I was just fucking ignoring him.

The rest of the guys knew this and were amused…

You know what they say, "simple mind, simple pleasure." Whoever wrote that must have been a chick… watching a bunch of guys.

But then again we had just got back from a tough fucking mission; we were all battered and bruised, so anything would be amusing to us anyway.

"Cowboy!" He chucked a book at me.

"What!" I yelled back at him, rubbing the newly acquired sore spot on my head.

Asshole.

"Your husband's here looking for you!" he smirked at me. The guys all stopped what they were doing and looked up at me. The tiny little world that existed around our little platoon seemed to freeze in mid second. Eyes bored into me, their gaze heavy with questions, like the warm, wet, Kansas summer air.

"Fuck you! You have to be fucking married before you have a husband!" I chucked the book back at him when he turned his back…

"Ow! Son of a bitch!"

I'm a sniper… I always hit my mark.

My answer seemed to be good enough; everyone went back to their business. But still Duke's word reverberated in an echo through my mind. 'Your husband.' I wasn't married… I almost was, but then I got the fuck outta Dodge as soon as my brain kicked my ass into gear.

"Well there's a guy out there looking for an Aidan Killian, says she's his wife." Yeah, that's my real name. My grandpa was Irish; my mom thought I was a boy. I guess she was just too fucking lazy to pick out a girl's name.

But it fits. Killian means something along the lines of warlike one. Call it fucking destiny if you want.

"There's probably lots of Aidan Killians in the world, he just got the wrong one." I got up and stole the basketball from him. He made a grab for it, I shot it. SCORE!

"Yeah, well you go tell him that." Duke was always a sore loser. I grinned at him and climbed the stairs.

The wind hit my face like a meat hammer left in a butcher's freezer. Shit, I thought California's Death Valley was supposed to be warm.

But then again it was night, and anyone who has lived in a desert knows that it can be ball sweating hot in the day, and freeze at night, with no humidity to keep the warmth in and all.

I saw a guy waiting with his back turned to me…

He was fucking muscled.

Not as much as Sarge, but almost.

"Look, I'm Aidan." I shouted at his back. He stiffened slightly but didn't turn. "I think you got the wrong one though, I'm not married."

He turned…

My jaw dropped.

It was him.

The fuck that assaulted me when I was a kid, the bastard who tried to rape me.

Fucker must have been on steroids.

"But we almost were, don't you remember?" He said in a fucking sickly sweet voice.

We were engaged, but only because my mom said yes for me. I vaguely wondered why I stayed with her as long as I had, but the thought didn't last. I was on full heightened awareness, my survival training kicking in. I sized him up, try to gauge which survival technique to use, fight or flight. I chose fight.

"You know, it's been proven steroids shrink you dick." I was baiting him. "Yours must be gone by now, it was microscopic to begin with."

He was pissed.

I was happy he was pissed.

He shot over and grabbed me by the arms. I tried to knee him in the balls, but he closed his legs… fuckturd.

"Don't look like you stand a chance this time, bitch." He growled into my ear. He reeked. Like he'd been smoking cat shit.

But he was right… he had me against the wall, my hands were pinned down to my sides, my shoulder and ankle were fucked up from our last mission, and he was stronger than me now… maybe I should have picked flight… oh well, it was too late to change my mind now.

But fuck him if he thought I was going down without a fight.

I did the only thing I could do… I head butted him…

Hard.

A thunderous crack filled the air and blood gushed down my face. I wasn't sure if it was from my head, or his nose. I didn't really care, all I knew was I needed help, and fast.

Injured, I didn't stand a chance against him…

Semper Fi. Always Faithful. Faithful to the Corps… faithful to each other.

I ran as fast as I could towards the barracks… towards my freedom… towards my family.

I was supposed to stay off my foot.

My ankle screamed with pain… but I kept going.

I heard, more than felt, it crack.

White light shot up my leg and into my eyes. Fucking shit! It hurt like a bitch!

I kept going, but at a slower pace. He grabbed my bad shoulder, I hissed in pain as he threw me to the ground.

This time he didn't have time to close his legs, I kicked him with all my might.

Crack. I knew it was my ankle, but in my mind I imagined it was his dick. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, clutching his most precious jewels which were cheaper than a two cent hooker.

Bastard.

But his yell brought the attention of the guys. They ran out just as I was getting up. I kicked him in the stomach, even though it hurt my ankle more than it did him.

By the time they had made it to me, I was, as my grandma used to say, madder than a wet cat in a grain sack. I kicked him repeatedly, my ankle screaming in pain with each blow it delivered, my adrenaline was so high and strong I could barely feel it. But that high went as fast as it came and I collapsed into the waiting arms of Goat. He grabbed me around the waist and I let my weight rest on him and off my ankle.

Fuck, it hurt so fucking much. Should never have gone for that last kick.

The rest of the guys grabbed the dick up. They didn't know what happened, they didn't ask. They didn't need to.

I was one of them… that's all they needed to know.

Goat took me to the infirmary… I would have been better off setting my ankle myself.

In a military hospital, you never know what kind of treatment you were going to get… this time, I got Dr. Death. He was named so aptly when it was discovered that more of his patients were going into the hospital, but less were coming out.

Goat walked me back and made sure I kept my balance with the newly acquired crutches I was using. Joy.

I never found out what the guys did to shitfuck… all I knew was that he never bothered me again; and upon further investigation… and a bribe of a bottle of genuine Jack Daniels whiskey (Which, since the factory closed during the second great depression had become quite valuable) to the launder, found that the guys had blood specks on their clothes.

Don't worry, they didn't kill him. He was on the news later that week for being caught taking steroids during a bodybuilding competition.

Fucking moron.

Later that night I feel asleep in one of the chairs, the drug the doc gave me kicking my ass. I remember being picked up and carried into my room… the same scent, the one from my birthday, filled my senses again as he laid me down and covered me up.

"Night, Aid."

DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM

I woke up to find Sam and Duke leaning over one of those fucking demons. She said something about it being human. No matter what the fuck she said, that thing was not human.

I looked around the room, apparently they guys were still gone.

Wait! What in fuck's name was that!

It was Goat! He was alive!

I don't know why, but I reached out for him. He reached a hand out to me. He was changing into one of those things… I was wrong, they were human.

He dropped his hand and looked me straight in the eye. By now Duke and Sam had discovered him, Duke raised his gun.

"What the fuck?" he said as Sam gasped.

Goat crossed himself… no, please don't.

He ran head first into the glass. I think Sam screamed, but I couldn't hear it the only thing I could hear was a low rumble, like thunder. All I could do was watch in horror as the only father I had ever known killed himself. There was a sickening sound as his skull crumbled and sliced into his brain. I heard a yell as I watched his deformed body fall to the ground. Only later did I realize that yell came from me.

DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM

The Kid came to us two days before our leave … not that I ever take it. I don't have anywhere to go. Usually I would spend my time at the range, practicing my marksmanship. Anyway, The Kid was a replacement for Gunner who had been killed in our last jungle mission.

Portman was saying something about she-boys, the sick pig fucker.

I was sitting with Goat, reading his bible over his should. He didn't mind much, he even made sure I was done with the page before turning it. He reached up and caught an orange that Destroyer and Mac had been using as a baseball. I saw their cardboard catcher, a cutout of a naked woman in a baseball hat with a glove, poised and read to catch the ball. I had my doubts that the real model had ever caught a ball in her life.

"I'm sick of your filth, Portman." Goat said.

"Amen," I echoed. Goat peeled the orange and gave me half. They started to tease John about where he was going for leave, usually he just stayed here at the barracks like me, but sometimes he went out. Usually we just screwed around.

No, not like that you dickweed.

He did what he did, and I did what I did, usually the only time we ever met up was when we were getting something to eat from the kitchen, or when we were going to the shooting range. It's easier to get in if you have two people instead of just one, like a group rate or something… even though it was free.

"Listen up, men." I got over being called a man a long time ago, incase you were interested. Not that you would give a fuck, just thought I would throw that in there. "Leave is canceled."

To say that didn't go over well was an understatement. Duke and Portman were visibly the most pissed. I couldn't give a fuck what Portman thought, but I felt bad for Duke and everyone else.

"What's up, Sarge?" That was Destroyer's deep, rumbling voice.

"We got us a game." Fuck yeah! It had been a hell of a long since I had seen some action.

Okay, so I'm little obsessive…

Okay, so maybe more than just a little, but still…

Sarge said something to the Kid, but I wasn't paying attention. Now don't get me wrong, I usually always listen to Sarge, but I was too busy going over a mental checklist of all I would need for the dangerous and potentially deadly situation.

If I had only known that nothing in the world could prepare me for the hell I was about to find myself going through.

"Fall in."

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Chapter two, done. Stay tuned for more! R&R!

EnyoGraeae: Glad someone was happy to see I put up a new chapter. The sarcasm comes straight from me, though I'm usually only that bad when I'm with my friends.

The basement wasn't so bad… except for the centipedes, millipedes, giant wolf spiders… and the hundreds of dead rollie-pollies. The worst was no internet access. But, I survived! I hope this chapter lives up to the last one!

LA Knight: Yeah, it's all in the movie tie-in book.

Amanda