A Flamed Eternity

Chapter 1- Mustang

My keys clattered against the kitchen counter as I picked up the mail that lay neatly on the doormat under my mail-slot.

Bill,
Telegram from Northern Command,
Bill,
Bill,
Junk mail,
Bill.
...
Goddammit.

I mean, of course I wanted to hear about how fantastic the soldiers up North are, or the thinly veiled insults towards the men that are under my command. Nor could I wait to pay the over-priced bills that were barely covered by my Colonel's salary. Yippee.

Sighing, I walked through my small, cluttered bedroom, into the smaller, albeit less messy, bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I stuck my hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up. I hopped in the flowing, steaming water. The warmth snuck across my sore muscles as I breathed in the steam, relaxing.

Switching off the water, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around my waist, I turned to the mirror, glancing up and down the body that stood on the other side of the silvered glass. Turning around and straining to look over my shoulder, I saw the long, thin scars that arched across my back. They haven’t hurt for fourteen years, ever since the war ended.

No, the wounds that still hurt were the ones under my skin, the ones that are engraved on my conscience. They were always there, always weighing me down with the weight of the wars, the ones I fought with others, and the ones I raged on myself. They are the ones I keep locked away in my brain, the ones that feasted in the pain that I felt every minute of everyday… The eternity of misery I had signed myself up for when I pledged myself to this god forsaken military.
Sighing, I shook my head, trying to clear out the dark thoughts.

The past is gone… And it’s never coming back. You can’t change it Roy. Don’t even try.

“It’s futile, really.” Grumbling, I walked into my small room, looking around for something clean to wear. All of my uniform’s were in the closet, pressed and clean. I walked over to my drawers, opening the top one and pulling out a pair of black boxer-shorts and a white muscle top.

Food time.

Walking out of the messy bedroom, it only took three paces to reach the fridge.

“Why is there no food?!” Slamming the fridge door shut, I glared at it, as if that would conjure up more food. Opening the door again, I stuck my nose inside curiously.

“Dammit, it didn’t work.”

I shut the door, gently this time, looking over at the clock above my stove.

23:46:07.72

“Eleven forty-six already?” I rolled my eyes, shuffling back to my bed.

Knock-knock-knock

Who the hell is calling on me at this time of night?

Walking back to the door, forgoing my warm bed for now, I opened the door slightly.

“Why am I needed this late, Hawkeye?” I muttered darkly, before my eyes widened and I threw the door open so hard it left a dent in the wall.

“Please…” The rain pattered against the steel, but my eyes were only on the small boy in it’s arms. His long hair was turning from blonde to red with the sticky blood, and his face was matted with mud. His breaths were short, shallow, and he wheezed in pain every time he inhaled.

“Help him!”

“Edward...:”

((A/N:: Hey guys! This is my first EVER fan-fiction, so please, drop me a comment below and tell me what you think!
Also, I would like to dedicate this story to two very important people: Adam and Amy. You helped me pluck up the courage to post to WattPad, and for that I thank you.
Amy, you were the one that got me into FMA, and I love you for it!
Adam, I was the one that got YOU into FMA, and since then, it’s been the sole topic of our conversations. You guys are both awesome

NEWS~~~this story is currently being edited by an amazing person!! So this story is going to become much better and more described. (No they didnt edit this part in)

PEACE~
Hannah