Kapitel 1: {1} Memories {1}
"You've gotta come home, August!" My mom yells through the speaker of my phone.
"Stop telling me what to do, mom! I'm not coming home until they retire Pax!"
"That could be years! August, I swear, if you don't come home-"
I abruptly ended the call, forcefully throwing my phone onto my bed. I wasn't going to leave. I couldn't leave. My life was here, with Pax. I couldn't leave him behind, but he couldn't come with me. Not while he could still work. Even then, it would take months to get him rehabilitated enough that he could be a normal dog.
'What if he kills a little kid at the park because he was playing with a fake gun?' Sergeant Walker's words echoed through my head.
I knew he was right. Pax couldn't come home. And if he couldn't come home, then neither would I.
I looked over at the black lump that took over most of my bed. His concerned face was looking up at me, frightened at my yelling. I gently stroked him.
"Hey, bud, I'm okay." I cooed, rubbing my face in the silky fur of his neck. He wagged his tail slightly, and licked my face, and in that moment, I knew that we would be together forever.
Except, I was wrong.
~~~
I looked at the black dog staring back at me through the frame. It seemed like ages ago since I saw him. Since I pet him. Since I kissed him...
But now, he was gone. And I was home. Angry. Tired. Longing. Lost.
I heard a knock at my door.
"Go away." I strained, coughing.
"Jesus, August, you need to get out. Get some fresh air." Kayla said. She's been my best friend since middle school, and has always stuck with me. When I returned after... after the incident, she helped me through my grief and pain. I didn't even consider moving in with my mother. No sane person would ever think about sharing a household with her, even if it were a mansion. So I stayed with Kayla, and here we were, 4 months later, still best friends, but separated by the grief and guilt that was slowly tearing me apart from the inside.
I grumbled in response.
"Come on, it'll help you clear your head." She treaded carefully on the subject of my grief, as if I would suddenly burst into a screaming panic attack again like I did in the middle of the grocery store 2 months ago. I didn't know lettuce could be so triggering.
I sighed. Going outside seemed like another mundane task the world had set out to make me more miserable. Life was more enjoyable when Pax was around...
But now he was gone. And I couldn't bring him back, no matter how much I tried wishing him into existence.
I heard the door creak open and saw her head poke through the threshold.
"Good Lord, what the hell has happened to your room?" She gawked.
She made a fair observation. My room looked like a tornado hit it. When I got home, I dumped what few belongings I had on the floor, and hadn't moved anything ever since. Everything was concealed in a thick layer of dust, like Pompeii.w Except for my pillow. I kinda felt bad for it. It had endured gallons of tears poured onto it as a result of my display of sorrow.
I glanced over to my bedside table where my small pistol sat, the only thing untouched by dust from my repetitive anxious fiddling with it.
"You don't plan on killing me, do you?" She joked.
I cracked the faintest hint of a smile. I hadn't smiled or laughed since... I wiped the thought away.
"I have to go to work." Kayla announced, looking down at her watch. "Please, Auggie, go outside. Take a walk." She gave a sad smile before leaving.
I heard the front door slam shut.
Kayla had a good point. Maybe the fresh air would help me get my life moving again.
I could just open a window, I thought. No. I would go outside today. I slowly dragged myself off of my bed, almost toppling over from not standing up since yesterday. My days mostly consisted of endless hours of crying, panic attacks, and depression. I didn't think my routine would change anytime soon.
I carefully made my way out of my room and stepped into my bathroom and the person staring back at me surprised me.Now that I was faced with a mirror, I finally got the opportunity to see what 4 months of mourning does to someone.
I didn't look like the same person I was before I joined the Marines. I wasn't the same person. It seemed like everyone saw me differently ever since I came back, but in reality, I was the one that saw the world differently. I was more anxious, and the smallest thing would set me off. That's what war does to you. It changes you mentally for the worse.
I studied my face. My eyes had huge bags under them from the late nights crying. My pores were clogged as a result of my neglect towards my body. My hair was knotted and frizzy, and stuck up in all the wrong places. I looked like I'd been dragged through hell. And in a way, I had.
I stunk, so took off my sad excuse for pajamas and hopped into the shower, letting the warm water run over my body, wishing it would wash away the hurt. But it only made it worse. My time in the shower was cut short when reality caught up to my short spurt of productiveness, and my brain became plagued with thoughts of the war... and Pax... and the explosion...
I reached forward and shut off the faucet. I grabbed my towel and dried myself off, then went back into my room to look for something reasonable to wear. Settling on a simple white shirt and black jeggings, I blow dried my frizzy hair and managed to comb through it and pull it up into a messy ponytail with a simple braid running through it.
Then I slipped on my maroon Converse and walked through the threshold of my prison...
~~~
A/N ~ I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Stay strong <3
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein