Samuel's P.O.V

~Flashback~

POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP!

Heavy gunfire. The screams of terrorized horses. Shouting from both sides. Cries of pain and death as soldier after soldier and mounts were mowed down by Calusán bullets. An occasional explosion from a hand grenade. Shrapnel flying through the air which was heavy with the smell of gunsmoke and Mt. Horn blood, so heavy it would make one vomit.

And it was hell. Pure hell.

The noise of the ambush filled my ears as I hunkered down in the cover of a snowbank trench with my childhood friend, Rolland, trying to escape the relentless gunfire. Both of our faces, caked with dirt and dried blood, were pale as the snow from terror, our hearts were racing, and we were both clutching our rifles so hard that our knuckles were white. The icy wind was nipping at our faces and chilling us to the bone.

We both looked at each other, and the look in our wide eyes said it all. We didn't think we were gonna get out of this alive.

"See if they're advancing." Rolland said shakily, gasping for breath. There were a couple pieces of shrapnel in his face and a bloody slash above one of his bloodshot eyes.

I nodded and used my rifle for support to stand up, turned and peeked over the edge.

God, I wish I hadn't.

"Oh...god…" I said, looking in shock at the sickening sight before bending over and vomiting.

Carnage. It was all carnage. Bodies lay strewn across the clearing, both men and horse alike. Some of them had their mouths open, like they were still screaming. There were so many of them, those still fighting on foot and horseback were tripping over them constantly. Pieces and chunks of flesh and gore, limbs, even heads lay between them, weapons, smoking grenade shells, along with countless bits of metal. Smoking craters where the grenades went off were all around the battlefield, turning the bodies around them into piles of flesh-slag. The snow, once pure white, was now almost thoroughly dark red with blood. The metallic smell of it was thick in the air.

I watched with horror as a Mountain Guard soldier on his horse was shot through the throat, ripping his head right off.

I stomach roiled at the realization of what I was witnessing. I was witnessing death. The death of my comrades.

'That could be me.' I thought, blanching. 'That's going to be me.'

But I didn't want to die. How would my family cope with it? What about Heather? How would Ash do without me?

I finished upchucking a second time and felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Rolland staring down at me.

"Are you alright?" He asked, obviously concerned.

I couldn't answer, so I heaved a sigh and rested my head on the side of my rifle's muzzle, breathing heavily. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image of death and blood was burned into my mind, no matter how hard I tried to shove it away.

WHUMP!

My head shot up and the sound of something landing in the snow. I looked up and saw one of my friends, Christopher, who had some bullet wounds and shrapnel, on his stomach and gripping his rifle. He glanced up at the both of us, wild-eyed with fear.

"GRENADE!" He yelled.

BOOM!

I cried out and threw my hands over my head as the ground shook and sharp bits of metal rained down into the trench. I felt a few pieces sink into my arms and hands.

"Tony's wounded!" Christopher shouted, getting back up. "I'm going back for him before he gets blown apart!"

Before I could say anything, Christopher climbed out of the trench, jumped in front of a runaway horse, grabbed it's reins, climbed on and raced away into the middle of real-world-hell.

"Christopher, wait!" I yelled, popping over the edge again, but it was no use.

I watched Christopher gallop across the battlefield, dodging grenade explosions and bullets, me desperately hoping that he wouldn't get hit, just like the other soldiers he went past, practically being shredded and ripped apart by the hiding Calusán.

Christopher had made it halfway across the clearing unscathed, when a small dark object was thrown from the trees right in front of his horse.

My heart leapt into my throat as I realized what it was.

"CHRISTOPHER!" I screamed.

But it was too late.

Before Christopher could realize what it was and stop, the grenade went off, and I watched with horror as the horse blew apart into chunks of blood and flesh and my friend was launched through the air and crumpled to the bloodstained snow.

Panic seized my throat.

"CHRIS!" I screamed again and started to frantically clamber out of the trench, but as I was heaving myself over the edge, a hand on my ankle stopped me.

"SAMUEL NO!"

I looked over my shoulder to see Rolland gripping my ankle, with an even more terrified look on his face.

"Let go of me!" I said. I tried yanking my foot away, but Rolland held fast and didn't take his eyes of me, which were starting to become wet.

"You can't go!" He cried. "It's suicide! You'll get shot!" I saw a tear fall.

"I don't want to witness the death of my best friend!"

"Christopher's hurt!" I yelled back. I was panicking now. "I ain't leaving any of my friends behind!" I finally yanked my foot from Rolland's grip. "I'm going for him, whether you like it or not!"

I saw Rolland heave a sigh of defeat, pick up his rifle, straighten his helmet, and climb up the side of the trench next to me.

"Them I'm going with you." He said, a meaningful look in his eye. "Whether you like it or not."

I nodded, knowing I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. Me and him knew each other since we were both four.

"I get Christopher and bring him here." I said. "You find Tony and I'll come help you."

Rolland nodded back, and we both stared out into the gut wrenching scene before us. We knew what we were getting into. We knew what the consequences would most likely be. We both knew that one of us would loose the other.

I clutched my rifle harder than I ever had and took in a deep breath, thinking about the worst that could happen.

But I was risking it for my friends. That was all that mattered.

Together, we jumped out of the trench and started running like madmen, only hoping we wouldn't get hit by bullets or a grenade. Rolland peeled off to my left, soon lost to my vision in the smoke, while I kept running straight, where I saw Christopher fall.

As I dashed across the clearing, dodging grenades, hearing bullets whistle by, and weaving my way through the sickening scene of bodies and blood, my mind was in a rush, so much that I almost didn't notice the grenades exploding behind me. Was Christopher okay? Was he dead? How bad was he injured? Would he get blown to smitherines before I got to him? Would I get blasted apart? Would I survive this? Would any of us will?

BOOM!

The explosion from a grenade behind me launched me forward and drove me into the ground. I cried out in pain my vision went black and white and as shrapnel sunk into my arm and back and a chunk of God-who-knows-what smacked my face and the blood and pieces of flesh from other bodies splattered all over me.

And for a moment I could only lay there on the ground, stunned by the blast, despite the burning pain of the shrapnel and with a ringing noise in my ears, the sound of battle muffled from my hearing.

After a few seconds, I snapped out of my dazed state, the sound of bullets whizzing past my head bringing me back.

Gasping for air, I started to get up when blood dropped into my eye.

I grunted and reached an arm to wipe it away, but then I stopped, because what I saw….there were no words.

On both arms, there was blood, shrapnel, flesh, and God who knows what else caking them.

I gaped in horror and started hyperventilating. It was the flesh and blood of my comrades. The flesh and blood of my friends. It was all over me. I felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

"Oh my god…" I said between breaths. "Oh…oh god….oh my god…"

I was so stricken, I almost didn't hear a groan of pain coming from one of the bodies beside me.

"Ah…"

I looked up, surprised. Laying in front of me was the hefty form with red blonde hair.

I gasped.

"Christopher!" I said, recovering my rifle and scrambling over to his side. "Are you alright?!"

All I got was another groan. Christopher was facing away from me, so I reached a hand and turned him into his back.

And again, when I saw him, my gut wrenched and all I could do was stare, my mouth hanging open.

Several bullet wounds gaped and bled from his now-holey Mountain Guard uniform and a big hunk of twisted metal protruding from his chest, the fabric around already sopping in blood. Shrapnel bristled from his arm and all along his side. Blood poured from it and a deep gash above his eye, covering half of his face and side with a dark red. His whole suit, like mine, was covered in blood and gore. Christopher's face was contorted in pain and white as a ghost where it wasn't covered in blood, gasping for air.

For me, it was horrifying to see one of my best friends like this. I couldn't even begin to think of a word to describe what I saw. I didn't even know what to say to him at first. All I did know was that now, if not before, I had seen too much. Too much death. Too much bloodshed. Too much horrific images and injuries. Just too much of everything that I couldn't un-see.

Christopher wheezed and coughed, blood spattering his cheek.

"Oh no…" Was all I could say.

Christopher heard my voice and looked at me, his bloodshot and glassy eyes filled with terror and pain.

"Run…" He tried to say, his voice cracking. "I'm not gonna...make it…"

Then his head lolled off to the side, and I immediately thought the worst.

"Christopher, no!" I said. I took his limp head into my gloved hands and faced him at me. "Look at me. Look at me, Chris, look at me! At me!"

I was terrified for Christopher. He seemed to be dying. He said it himself. His whole body was covered in blood, most of it his own.

My stomach churned as I thought I was about to witness my friend die.

"Christopher, stay with me!" I said, begging. "You're not gonna die! You're stronger than that!"

Christopher inhaled raggedly as his eyes fluttered close, and his head started going limp.

'He's dying.' I thought, panicking. ''One of my best friends is dying.'

"Christopher NO!" I yelled, shaking him. "Wake up, man! WAKE UP!"

Dink.

I didn't hear it, and I certainly didn't think it wasn't the reason that Christopher opened his eyes.

Relief flooded through me as his eyes slowly started to open again and he coughed.

I was about to say something, but then I watched as he craned his neck to see behind me, and his expression of pain turned into one of terror.

"What's wrong?" I blurted, starting to scoop him up.

He glanced up at me, fear and alarm in his eyes.

"Grenade…" He croaked.

"What?" I glanced behind my back-

I barely had time to register what was happening and throw myself over Christopher before the grenade exploded.

The flash of light. The ground quaking beneath me. The sound of the explosion almost blowing my eardrums followed by the shockwave through the air. Hot wind burned my face. I cried out in pain as shrapnel and shell fragments sunk into my backside and blood splattered all over my face. I heard Christopher also yell beneath me as more of the metal bit into his legs.

"Run, Samuel!" He yelled between gasps of pain. "You'll get blown!"

"No!" I yelled back. "I'm not letting you die!"

"If I'm not killed now, I sure ought to die in the hospital! I'm not worth saving, Samuel! GO!"

'I'm not worth saving.' Did he just say that? Did he just say he wasn't worth sacrificing for? Was my best friend, Christopher, the one who had my back all these years since the minute we joined the Mountain Guard, finally giving up?

There was no way anyone would make me abandon Christopher. He was my best friend. I couldn't let him die like this. I could never live with it. What would his family have to say?

"NO!" I screamed. "I'M NOT LEAVING YOU LIKE THIS, CHRIS!"

"GET OFF OF ME!" He roared.

"NO! I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE!"

"YOU CAN'T SAVE EVERYBODY!"

"I CAN SAVE YOU!"

"NO YOU CAN'T!"

"YES I CAN!"

"GO! LEAVE ME BE!"

"NO!"

He grunted, and I yelled in surprise as he heaved and shoved me off of him. I landed a few feet away with a whump!

Christopher turned himself into his stomach, grunting in pain as he did so, and looked at me, determination and a fire in his eyes.

"Listen to me!" He said over the noise. "Don't be looking out for me! I can do that myself! What you need to be looking over is your family. Heather and Ash need you, Samuel! What would they do without you?! What would they do, your mom, your dad, your siblings!? What would they do when they hear that you were dead?! What would they do?! WHAT WOULD THEY DO?!"

Me. Dead. My mother and father without their only son. My sisters without their only brother. Heather and Ash living without me. My friends without me. Rolland without me.

None of it painted a pretty picture.

Thinking about it, I buried my face into my hands. I loved my family. Of course I wanted to see them again. With me being killed, they would suffer. I didn't want them to suffer.

I felt my eyes get wet and a deep sadness welling into my chest as I thought the worst.

'I promised Mom and Dad I'd make it back safely.' I thought mournfully. 'I promised Heather that before I left. I promised Ash that as I hugged him goodbye.' I promised Laura, who was carrying a girl at five months, I would make it back safely in time before the baby arrived.

What would happen if I broke all those promises?

Dink!

Hearing a noise and a gasp, I looked from behind my hands-

"RUN!" Christopher screamed, his eyes filled with terror. A couple tears had started to fall.

This time I listened. I snatched up my rifle and ran away as fast as I could, looking over my shoulder, tears streaming down my face. The sight of Christopher just laying there with a grenade in front of him, looking at me with a forlorn look on his face knowing what was coming, it wrenched at my heart.

Bullets whizzing past me, I saw a snowbank and dove for cover. I put my hands over my ears and braced myself.

BANG!

My hiding spot flooded with an orange light. A few pieces of metal fell next to me. The snow quivered. I flinched and looked up to the cloudy sky to see a column of smoke rising into the air.

I got up and peered over the edge of the bank. The remnants of the grenade were still smoking. The bodies that had surrounded the grenade were reduced to pieces. There was no sign of Christopher.

"CHRISTOPHER!" I screamed. "CHRIS!"

Nothing.

My knees went weak, my throat went dry, and I started to hyperventilate as I realized at what I just saw.

I had witnessed the death of one of my best friends.

'Christopher's dead.' I thought, breathing heavily. 'He's dead.' That was all I could think. That Christopher was dead. Because he was.

"CHRISTOPHER!" I wailed again in grief.

It struck me so hard, all I could do was fall to my knees, face buried in my hands, and start to cry. Christopher was gone. One of my best friends, gone. A victim to war. Just another to add to the long list of names of the dead when this is all over. The last moment we had together was one when we were fighting with each other.

I seen my whole squadron be ambushed and ripped apart in a matter of minutes. Heads getting ripped off, limbs being decapitated, some even getting blown apart completely by grenades, both alive and dead. I seen so much blood being spilled. So much blood being shed. I cried harder as those thoughts replayed in my head.

And I knew I was next. It was only a matter of time. Whether it would be by grenade or bullet, I would too be among those bodies. The end was near for me.

I wouldn't see my parents ever again. I wouldn't be there when Laura's daughter came into the world. Me and Heather wouldn't celebrate our ninth anniversary together, and I wouldn't be able to see Ash grow from a little boy to a man.

'I'm so sorry, mom…" I sobbed. "I'm so sorry, dad…"

I looked down at my trembling gloved hands, which were covered in blood. The blood of my comrades. The blood of my friends. And I was next.

"I-I let you down…" I said between sniffs, barely hearing myself over the noise of the dragging battle. "I hope you can…forgive me…"

I covered my face again, quietly crying. It was all I could do. I was in no mental and emotional condition to fight. The pain from the shrapnel was coming back, hot waves of it pulsing through me. I flinched at every grenade explosion I heard, thinking about how it was another one of my friends being blown apart. The sound of battle filled my ears and wouldn't go away. And that's how it was for awhile. It was probably several minutes, but it seemed like several hours.

And then suddenly there was a cry, a shout, and all of a sudden, the gunfire, the grenades, they all stopped.

But for a moment, so deep in all my grief, I didn't notice it.

And then-

"AUUGH!"

The cry cut through the smoky and stenched air. When I heard it, my eyes flew open and I sat up fast.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. I heard it for twenty eight years.

It was Rolland's voice.

In all my panic and grief, I had totally forgot about him.

"Rolland." I said, gasping. "He's still alive."

Quickly I got my rifle and stood up, looking to where the source of Rolland's voice came from. For a second I couldn't see him.

"Rolland!" I called. "Where are you?!"

Another cry. But it wasn't just any cry. It was a cry of fear.

"Rolland?" I called again. Something in his voice didn't seem right.

"SAMUE-"

"Akhris!" Came a harsh voice with a thick Calusán accent.

I scanned the clearing, and when I saw, I gasped and almost dropped my rifle in horror.

There was a burly Calusán soldier, dressed completely in black, AK-47 slung over his back. He was holding a Mountain Guard soldier by the throat with one hand and was holding a pistol to his head with the other.

And it wasn't just any Mountain Guard soldier.

It was Rolland.

"ROLLAND!" I screamed. I got up from the snowbank and dashed across the clearing.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my heart raced, my lungs pierced a sharp pain with every breath, and my legs burned. I had lost a friend to these ruthless murderers, possibly more. And that was one too many.

And I couldn't bear to lose another.

Ignoring the bullets again flying at me, I ran as fast as I could humanly go until I was about seven yards away from the Calusán soldier.

"STOP!" I yelled as I slid to a halt in front of him. I quickly aimed my rifle, instinctively at his heart.

The soldier looked at me and removed the pistol from Rolland's head.

"Not a step closer." He growled, pointing it at me. He shook Rolland. "Or he dies."

I glanced at Rolland, who was desperately clawing at the Calusán soldier's hand that was locked around his throat, gasping for air.

"Put him down." I hissed between my teeth, chest heaving. "And don't you dare hurt him."

The soldier seemed to raise an eyebrow and laugh.

"I'm afraid it just won't be that simple." He said coolly. "You see now, Mt. Horn, we were instructed to to exterminate all of you. And when I say all of you, I don't mean most of you. I mean ALL. Every single one." He looked across the clearing at all the carnage. And through the cloth cloaking his face, I could see hints of what would probably be the sickest smile that I would ever see. "And I must say, we did quite well." He looked at Rolland and me. "But the job isn't done yet." Then he looked to the treeline.

"Wahda!" He called, in a language I didn't understand. "Mushahidat 'anfusakum!"

There was rustling and crunching of snow underfoot as at least fifty Calusán soldiers, all in black robes emerged from the treeline. They began to surround the three of us, closing in a tight circle.

All over again, as I looked at the advancing soldiers, terror rose into my throat. I gripped my rifle harder. My heart started hammering in my chest. I realized there was no way we were gonna get out of this.

"I'll give you a choice." The soldier said. "Both of you will die," he paused to throw Rolland onto the ground put his foot on his back and look at me, pistol still in hand. He cocked it. "But you get to pick who goes first. Ten seconds, or I choose for you."

Ten seconds. That's all I had. That's all I had to decide who would be shot to death first.

And, as much as I hate to admit it, for a split second I was going to let Rolland go. But then I saw him, helpless and gasping for breath.

I couldn't let Rolland die. He was my closest friend. Like I said before, he was my friend since preschool. What would he think of his own friend when they said for him to die first? What would happen to the trust that had been forged from hard times and twenty eight years in each other's company? He was a brother to me in every way. But then the last thing he would see would my dead body.

I had been so absorbed in my thinking that I lost track of time.

"Time's up." The Calusán soldier said.

He bent down, grabbed Rolland's neck and hauled him up, pressing the muzzle of the pistol to his head.

"Say goodbye to your friend." He said coldly.

Rolland whimpered.

I gasped, and before anyone could stop me, I aimed for the man's heart and pulled the trigger.

No. Not my friend. Nobody kills my friend.

BANG!

The man cried out in pain and staggered before collapsing to the ground, the pistol falling away from Rolland's head and the soldier's lifeless body.

I was about to sling the rifle over my back-

"SAMUEL!" Rolland screamed. "GET DOWN!"

But it was too late, because then the bullets came flying at me.

I wasn't quick enough.

I barely had time to scream. Bullets peppered me from every direction. They tore through me in every place. I felt them slicing flesh and muscle, shredding skin, ripping through organs and shattering bone in their passage. Blood started gushing and dripping from the exit wounds. The pain I felt was unlike anything else. I was literally getting ripped apart. My wounded legs gave out and I fell to the ground.

Blood started pooling in the back of my throat. My headache was slashing bright zigzags in my black splotchy vision. My heart was a sledgehammer in my bleeding chest. Every gasping breath felt like a sword to my abdomen. I tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled gurgle. I was literally choking on my own blood.

And then my hearing became muffled, my pain started to dull away, the feeling of snow and cold blood was fading.

"SAAAMUUUEL!"

And that was the last thing I heard, the screaming cry of my best friend, before my vision went black.

~Flashback End~

My eyes flew open and I gasped as the flashback ended. My heart was pounding. I was shaking. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. I felt sick to my stomach. My vision was still black. The scars that I got from the battle were burning-literally. I felt pressure on my elbows and back, like I was being pinned down. Normally I would lash out, but I was too dazed to react.

"He's back." I heard a voice say. "Back up."

The pressure vanished and I heard the shuffling of feet.

"Is Samuel alright?" Someone whispered.

"Yes." Said another. "It must've been a really bad one. Give him a second."

After a few seconds my eyesight cleared up, and for a split second I was expecting to be laying in the snow, but that passed and my vision cleared up, and I was back in the cabin, laying on the kitchen floor.

'It was just another one.' I thought to myself. 'But it felt so real….'

For a moment, all I could do was lay there, eyes closed, head on the floor, breathing heavily, trying to regain myself, because I was feeling the same sorrow and fear that I had that day.

"Uncle Sam?" It was Hailey's voice. "Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to see two pairs of feet in front of me. I looked up and saw the worried faces of both Zane and my niece.

"W-what happened?" I asked shakily, even though I already knew the answer.

"You had another flashback." She said. "It must've been really intense. Zane and I heard you screaming and we had to pin you down."

I sighed and slowly rested my head back onto the floor.

Zane. He saw. He saw one of my flashback episodes. Did he already know I have PTSD? Or had he never seen anything like it before? What did he think of me? Did he think I was a freak? A pyschopath? It's true how PTSD is a mental disorder, but I wasn't insane. But did he think I was? How did he see me?

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder that brought me out of my thoughts, and looked up to meet the brown eyes of my niece, which were full of concern and worry.

"Do you want to sit on the couch?" She asked. "It'll be a lot better than the floor."

Slowly I nodded and tried to get up. But my quaking knees felt like rubber and I slipped back down with an oof! and groaned.

I heard Hailey gasp.

"Are you alright?!" She said, rushing over to me and taking my arm.

I heaved a shaky sigh and nodded again. I didn't have the energy to talk much.

"Here." Hailey said in a soothing way. "Let me help you."

I let Hailey and Zane carry me on their shoulders under my arms and help from the kitchen and into the living to the couch. I practically flopped onto it as my weak knees gave out and they gently slipped me off.

"Do you need anything?" Hailey asked me.

I had no energy to answer, so I just closed my eyes and sighed, still trying to catch my breath.

There was some silence before I heard them walk away. One of them went outside and the other went into the kitchen.

The sun was shining in my eyes through the window, so I covered my face with a hand and tried to calm my racing heartbeat and regain my composure. The feeling of horror and sadness still lingered.

I heard footsteps again behind me and something being set down on the table.

"Here's some ramen." Hailey's voice said. "It'll be here if you need it."

I didn't answer. I didn't feel hungry at all.

"I'll be outside…"

There was a few seconds of silence before the door opened and clicked shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

That flashback was the worst I had since last year. Screaming, thrashing, knocking things over, I even almost struck Hailey in the face.

I shuddered as I remembered the look shock and horror when it happened. Despite me apologizing to her, she still kept her distance from me the rest of that week. Like she was afraid of me, almost.

I sighed as I remembered that, too.

I felt so crushed to see Hailey afraid like that, and even more, it was because of me. She was cautious because she thought I could try to hurt her again. I had done enough of hurting someone else. She barely even talked to me, made eye contact with me, or was around me in general. For five days.

And I was scared. Did Hailey really think I would hurt her? Did she feel safe around me at all? Did she not think I meant what I said when I put her to bed when she's stayed up too late? Does she secretly wish at night that she could be anywhere but with me? Did she not trust me?

And the biggest question of all: When she said that she loved me, was it really true?

I covered my face with both hands. I still ask myself those questions sometimes, like I was now.

For the last one, I really hoped the answer was yes. I had been through enough suffering, I had lost enough people, and I had been alone for far too long. I spent over a year being a broken, miserable soul, thinking I would never be able to love again. And it was all because of my PTSD.

PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And survivor's guilt, too. It really threw my life in a loop. It almost destroyed my family. It almost destroyed my life. It almost destroyed me. Literally.

So when Hailey came into my life, she literally saved me from myself. Without even realizing it, she got my life back into line. For the first time in awhile I actually felt...happy. She was, and is, my whole world, and I loved her with all my heart.

And just the thought of it scared me to death, of her telling me one day she didn't feel the same way….that she didn't trust me or have faith in me…I just don't know if I would be able to take it.

Heaving a shaky sigh, I looked down at my trembling hands, thinking about all that could happen if that day was to come.

"I love you Hailey…" I said, my eyes getting wet. "I can only hope you feel the same…"

I buried my face in my hands and quietly started crying, feeling so regretful at all the mistakes I've done.