It wasn't over whelming; I wasn't drowning in a bloody tide of agony or anything. It was more of a strange discomfort that slowly crept over me. As the day pressed on my throat tightened little by little, my lungs felt trapped as I struggled to inconspicuously take in deep breathes of air at a time.

I stared lazily out of the rain-dappled windows, which quivered every time a wave of thunder rippled across the clouded sky. The meeting in Mustang's office had yet to come to an end and Mischa had been called back to training along with the other new recruits.

With everyone busy, I was left alone, standing in an empty hallway, observing the soggy, gray-tinted gardens that lied on the other side of a thin sheet of glass.

I have no place here.

I tore my gaze away from the window and looked around at the white-washed walls and the rows of dark mahogany doors that were all tightly shut and locked to prevent anyone from stumbling across any secrets that might be hidden within said rooms.

Within a split second of the Fürer declaring war, everything from the military records to the color of the president's underwear became top secret.

"You look lost."

I suppressed the urge to jump and instead allowed my eyes to slowly flicker to the person who'd suddenly appeared in the hallway. I sure as hell wasn't going to let them think they'd surprised me.

I found myself looking at Abel, the alchemist whom I'd met just days before when the skies were still sunny and the country still sane.

"Yeah, well, there's not much for me to do around here," I replied awkwardly, still secretly amazed by how silently he'd walked up to me, "I'm not actually a part of the military or anything."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, "After a show stopper like that, I thought you'd have a state license for sure by now."

I shrugged and smiled jokingly, "I guess the military here isn't as sharp as it's rumored to be."

He let out a casual laugh, "and I'm guessing that you aren't from around here."

"No, the country I came from is pretty far away, you probably haven't even heard of it," I bit my lip, suddenly regretting dozing off during the majority of my teacher's infamous geography lessons.

"You're probably right; I've never even been outside of Ames-" he stopped short as the sound of heavy footsteps carried from down the hall. The once shut doors were beginning to swing open as soldiers poured out of every possible place in the building.

"What's going on?" The question escaped my lips before I had the chance to bite my tongue.

Abel, who looked about as confused as I did, was about to answer when a stout, timid man approached him, "Are you uh, let's see here…" the man trailed off as he read retrieved a crumpled telegram from inside his coat pocket, "ah! Yes, are you Mr. Wright?"

Abel nodded.

"You've been summoned to the war room, it is advised that you go immediately," the man paused yet again to throw a glance in my direction before adding, "And discreetly."

With that, the man scurried back into the sudden flow of traffic.

"Summoned?" he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

I pressed myself closer against the wall as what seemed to be an endless stream of soldiers and secretaries hurried throughout Headquarters.

"Skyla, why the hell are you still here?"

I turned at the sound of Rolland's frustrated tone.

Abel leaned in beside me, his chilled breathe soft against my fervent neck as he whispered, "I forgot to mention that Amestris is also known for the cheerful and friendly demeanor of their citizens."

I fought back a giggle for the sake of Rolland, whose face was beginning to scrunch with wrinkles and worry lines.

"All state alchemists have been called to duty," Rolland stated coldly, his gaze flickering to Abel.

I opened my mouth in protest but Abel shook his head with a casual smile, "No, it's cool, I can take a hint. I'll see you two later."

He stepped into the flow of traffic and was gone within seconds. Slowly, I turned back to Rolland with an innocent smile. "You shouldn't be here," he grumbled, his anger simmering down.

"So I've noticed. Now, what's going on?"

His eyes, the color of a smoker's lung, bore into mine, "Central is under attacked. We don't know how many troops they have, how close they are, or if this is even Drachma, so right now you need to get the hell out of here. Call this number," he pulled a slip of paper from his coat pocket, "a woman will answer. Her name is Elicia Hughes and she's a friend of the family, tell you who you are and she'll come pick you up."

Although my fingers snatched the paper from his and my lips uttered a submissive, "Okay" I had already firmly made up my mind that I would definitely not be leaving. I couldn't leave Mischa…or Rolland…or anyone else. With that, he left me standing alone in a crowded corridor. I shoved the piece of paper into my pocket.

Another bout of thunder ripped across the sky, this time accompanied by a series of gunshots.

The battle had begun.

In the end, I had given in to my guilt and I called Elicia. Things should have gone well from there but of course, nothing will ever go as planned.

The day pretty much went as follows:

She picks me up; we drive to the train station and ask for the first train out of Central.

There is one leaving now.

We'll take tickets for that, please.

She boards the train, I run to the bathroom-there's a line.

When I return the train has departed with Elicia and the others who were traveling with us. By this time the station is being arraigned by Drachman soldiers as the rest of the screaming city burns to the ground.

It was ineffable. The horror and destruction that played out before my eyes. Up until that battle I was fairly confident in Amestris' military prowess but that was…pure defeat.

Massacre.

Flames engulfed small shops thrusted thick plumes of black smoke into the humid air as civilians fled in terror. The Drachman soldiers had come with such speed and force that the city hadn't been able to evacuate. I peered out from behind a crumbling wall, the smoke deep in my lungs. Our troops were scattered in small clumps throughout the city. There weren't many left and I didn't recognize the ones I did see.

The sound of a gun loading echoed in my ears like church bells on a Sunday morning and I turned to find what the soldier was aiming at.

A young girl stood alone, trembling in a stained, ragged dress, her eyes deep-set with fear. The girl's tear-streaked face was dappled with blood as she clutched the skirt of a woman who lied faced down in the street.

My heart stopped. No.

I scrambled from behind the wall and dove for her as he pulled the trigger.

There were voices but no words as I wrapped my arms around her and we tumbled over the body of her dead mother. The girl lets out a surprised cry. Pain radiates from my shoulder.

The street was cold against my skin, slick with sweat. More voices, more noises. The girl clung to me in terror and refused to let go, she curled up against my stomach. My shoulder hurts.

My vision was blurred and I could barely make out faces above us. Blue uniforms, gray uniforms, all black boots. A woman cried out, her face familiar. Guns are loaded.

The lights sway and bend and blur.

One gunshot, two gunshots, a whole round. I covered the girl's ears and hold her tighter. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she quivered in fear.

A body sailed to the ground like a stone beside us. It was a woman. She was beautiful, in a delicate sort of way. My shoulder hurts. A thin line of blood trickled from her parted lips and I stared into her glossy opal-colored eyes.

She coughed, "So much for that hair salon."

My eyes welled with tears as I realized I was witnessing the death of my best friend. There were more voices.

"No," I chocked, disbelief spreading through me faster than a wild fire, "don't say that. You-"

A sad smile crossed her face, "N-Never look back and…"

Another round was fired. Her eyes closed.

Tears spilled down my cheeks and onto the cold stone. I wanted to scream, to scramble up and get her help, to bring back the life that once sparked happily beneath her eyes. But the little girl was still shaking in my arms. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

I could no longer see the black boots of the soldiers. It was just the two of us, sobbing in a street littered with bodies and the noises of despair, having been left to die.