Left Behind
637 words


Can’t say I didn’t expect it. I did. Ever since the news, I did. How could have it ended otherwise? It’s war. It’s a war, so casualties are expected. I didn’t know them. I don’t know many – no, I know them, but in passing. I just don’t know them.

I don’t cry. I’m not sad. Should I be? I probably should; social expectations, or something like that. Just as well I didn’t stay then. I don’t tend to comfort people. Don’t really want to either. If they’re dead, they’re dead. I see no point in tears; they won’t change things, won’t bring them back. Best I leave the crying to those that believe in it.

Have to do something though. Can’t go home, can’t sleep; not now, not yet. I don’t fear nightmares because I don’t have them. Rather, I have them, but can’t remember them. Just wake with a cold sweat and thundering heart. It’s not restful. Indulging helps – alcohol, pills flesh – but I can’t. If I can’t cry to offer comfort, I won’t indulge, not until I do something. Something useful.

I didn’t stick around long. No one asked for help and I didn’t offer. I should’ve though. It’s my duty and I didn’t do it. Nevermind my damned feelings, misplaced feelings – bitter satisfaction, but why? – I should’ve done my job. My supplies are lacking, true, but that’s no excuse. There’s no excuse, really.

I can kill one bird with two stones. I need to make up for my lack, for being remiss. I need more supplies for later. I’ll get what I need, and then some. Won’t be easy though; can’t keep nipping stuff from the hospital. Can’t risk buying too much or I’ll draw attention. Annoying. Damned either way.

Ah. No, there is a solution: that old deal I made. They could get my supplies; robbing is one of their few talents. I wonder what they’d want in return? Would I kill for gauze? Antiseptic and penicillin? No. It’s not an equal trade. I could send a message though, inflict some terror; that’s easy. If I collect some energy too, how are they to know? They’ll accept the offer. They have to, because they have no where else to go. I’ll make sure I’m their only option.

One problem solved, one problem left. I am… unsettled. I lost my head in the maze, when the walls started closing in. Figures I’d crack when it counts most. It bothers me, but it’s not the problem. No, it’s Scheelite. Scheelite, happy Captain Scheelite, who left me to be crushed. First, he freaks at the General’s disappearance, leaving it to me and the other Lieutenants to come up with a plan, and then he leaves me behind. He speaks of family, but he abandoned me. Am I not family? A comrade, at least? I wouldn’t have been so quick to leave him. Not then, at least, but I see him now. He may be a Captain, but he’s weak. He’s weak and he’s allowed a team, allowed to spread his weakness.

I don’t get it. I don’t think I want to get it. All I can do is fight it, but not even that. People like Scheelite. He has powerful friends and I’m just one person, just a Lieutenant. I need more power. If I could become a Captain, I’d be more useful. My team would just that: a team, not a family. Efficiency does not require family. If I could show them that, maybe they’d see, understand: this is war. Family has no meaning in war.

Don’t know what I’m lacking, but there must be something. Fellow Lieutenants are surpassing me, leaving me behind. I’ll have to get better, study more, train more. I’ll earn that promotion. I will. I refuse to fail at this.