i just feel like writing

the begining i think

Fresh out of the war, on home soil less than a day, and already employed. That's what happens though when one of your squad members gets out carrying a guilty conscience and finds himself a cushy security gig.
Uzi had always been my best friend. The entire squad had been like brothers, but Uzi had been my twin. We'd gone through a lot together, always swore we'd go home together. Then that fucking mission turned to shit. It screwed with his head in a way I thought he'd never come back from. That completely fucked up mission is the reason he left and the reason I reuped.
Uzi wanted as far away from all that shit, all that death, as humanly possible. I wanted to help, to serve, and to protect. I wanted to show the officers that policy needed changed so they could show washington. I shared the story of that mission with any one ranked above me that I met in my time in the army. I perfected the art of detatching enough that it wouldn't hurt so bad and staying attatched enough that people would still care. A damn lot it ever accomplished, but I gave it all I had and then some.
I planned to find a way to continue my campain, that was just as soon as I was up to it again.
My last tour had done a real number. Shit sure as hell didn't get better once Uzi left. More shit hit the fan and there wasn't a moment my whole tour that I felt any resemblence of safety. That may have been related to my previous tour, but I was never one to second guess my instincts. This last tour...it left me too broken to return. Physically I was no worse for wear than the rest of my squad, but mentally...I was a grade fucking A mess. Since I had my decission on reinlistment coming up anyway they'd decided on an extended home leave and honorable discharge due to a failure to reinlist. The truth was PTSD had fucked up my brain to bad for me to get a shrinks go ahead on redeployment.
Now, out of pity guilt friendship or a sense of responsibility, Uzi had scored me a job. After he left the army he'd become some corperate big wigs body gaurd. It was a nice gig, bad hours, but overall a pretty simple gig, good for an ex army guy. Only Uzi fell for the dudes sister and decided he needed better hours to go play house. Uzi had become head of the corperate security, but that left this dude in need of a body guard. Just as they started their search I called Uzi to fill him in on my home coming from my german hospital room, much better reception than the dessert.
Anyway the idiot convinced me it would be a brilliant idea to get me the position he'd just vacated, and seeing as I had no ties anywhere else I accepted the offer. Uzi had greeted me when I steped off the plane, he'd then conducted my 'interview' in the car, before dropping the formality to catch up.
I evaded the questions I didn't like and he let me do it because he knew just how dark my truthes could be. He invited me to his place for dinner, giving me no real choice seeing as he was driving. When we stepped into his home he was greeted with a long kiss from the tiny red head that had to be Kim, whom he'd mentioned in every letter he sent after he met her. She introduced herself politely but I could sense that she was biting her tongue. That's when I remembered what Uzi had said about his fiance climbing in soldiers heads and picking them apart without any regard as to how they'd fit back together(this was in his first letter about her). After I met Kim I got to meet her daughter Ella who was gurgling happily as she crawled around a softly carpeted room, filled to the brink with toys. Ella was an energetic baby who quickly wore me out after my long flight. We ate a nice dinner filled with pleasent conversation, catching up while avoiding any...delicate subjects.
Uzi tried to pursuade me into taking the guest room for a night, but I held firm, knowing the nightmares were far too much. Especially with his family in the house. Now I'm finally in a motel room, beyond ready for the comfort of the awaiting bed.
The motel is nothing special, it is a slightly dingy place on the edge of my quaint postcard like new town. The room has what appears to have once been a cheerfull now nauseating shade of yellow walls, with carpets that are grey though I am unsure whether or not that was the original color. All the wooden furniture, a desk chair and wordrobe, are chipped and scratched. The bathroom is ok, not exactly eat-off-of-the-floor clean, but it wouldn't make you run for the hills. The bed though...the bed is amazing. It truely seems as though they'd taken every scent they'd saved on the rest of the room to purchase the bed. The matress is soft, sinking with my weight but staying stiff around me. The covers are heavenly soft, like velvet almost, and the pillow is silky and cooled, a nice contrast to the july heat, though after my time in the desert the heat has barely registered.
I strip down for an overdue shower, bothering only with boxers and sweat pants when I emerge. Eagerly I slip under the covers, shifting until I find I possition comfortable for all my newly aquirred and still healing wounds. As soon as I find that spot I'm done for. My eyes close heavily, and I temporarily welcome the long awaited sleep.