After the war

Chapter 10 : Pancakes

Jane's piece of metal didn't give her a moment of break. In the middle of the night, the pain travelled her face like if someone was sinking a screwdriver in her eye. Joyce tried to help her, but nothing could be done. Plus, Max's overprotectiveness kept her aside. She could see that Max was caring a lot about Jane, but not accepting someone else's help wasn't a good idea.

Sadly, the two girls left in the middle of the night. Joyce felt a pinch in her heart, but she couldn't force them to stay if they didn't want to. Even if Max was more deciding for Jane.

Anyway, Joyce had enough to do with her own sons. She woke up early. No, in fact, she didn't go back to sleep after Jane's scream. It gave her the creep and was unable not to hear it anymore. She was wondering if Jane wasn't reliving some moments on the front when the pain was increasing. Her scream didn't sound like a scream of pain. Not just that. She seemed scared too.

The sweet smell of hot pancakes stimulated Jonathan's appetite. Now that they had access to food more often, Joyce promised herself not to let her son starve again, like it had happened for years during the war. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. She put some pancakes in a plate and placed it on the table, where Jonathan sat.

At the same time, Will got out of his bedroom to go to the bathroom. As every day of his fucking doomed life, he had to clean his hurt eye and put a new bandage. He couldn't wait for the day he wouldn't need those bandages anymore, to be finally able to see correctly again, with both his eyes. Even if everything he would see would just be his pale and skinny reflection in the mirror, depicting his emotions inside him. Sometimes anger. Sometimes sadness. But mostly emptiness.

The knocks at the door startled him. It was his mother asking him if everything was okay. Nothing was okay, but he told her he was. She was always on his back. He hated and liked that at the same time. It was irritating and the least she could do for him. If everyone was still alive, it was thanks to him.

Those pancakes were bland, but he actually liked them. It was still better than everything he had eaten those last seven years. At least, there were not grains of sand on them. But his plate was empty now, and he was still starving.

- "I want more," he ordered.

Joyce and Jonathan looked at each other with round eyes, surprised by his sharp tone, but both began to gently laugh, which pissed Will off. They were mocking him. He knew it. What a bunch of ungrateful people. He was wondering why he had spent seven years on the front for them. They didn't deserve any help. They didn't deserve anything.

- "Stop mocking me," Will sharply said, gritting his teeth.

- "We're not, sweetie. We're not."

- "Then, give me more pancakes!"

- "Hey, bud'. Mom is not your slave. You can't talk to her like that!" Jonathan intervened.

- "Shut the fuck up, wanker! People have been talking to me like that for seven years, and guess what!? I obeyed, because that's why I was there! Where the fuck were you when I was placing bombs inside houses, pointing guns at other people on the other side, and watching my friends die!? Huh!? Where the fuck were you!?"

His mother and his brother remained silent. Even if they didn't have an easy life those seven years, they were still feeling guilty for everything that happened. For not being on the front while Will was. All of this was unfair, they knew it.

- "Your silence means everything. I've saved your ass for seven years, now, the least I can expect from my family is a little bit consideration and compassion! If I want more pancakes, I'll have more pancakes!" Will continued, hitting the table with his fist.

- "Will-"

- "You're right," Joyce said, cutting Jonathan. "I'm preparing more pancakes for you."

Joyce weakly smiled to Will before standing to prepare more pancakes. Jonathan noticed her feared expression on her face and her hands shaking. He would have yelled at Will if Will wasn't looking at him with those dark eyes, like if he was ready to kill him for his next words. One thing was certain, Will wasn't Will. Not anymore.

Meanwhile, in town, things were becoming serious. Lucas and other former militaries met a few times during nights to talk about their new lives. Most agreed to fight for their rights, for respect. Pacifically. They would use violence only if they didn't have the choice. But they wanted people to understand it wasn't right.

When the sun slowly reappeared in the sky to let the moon go back to sleep, Lucas and his friends were already in the streets, chanting their slogan "fight for the peace, peace for the fighters". Lucas led the group, his fist in the air. He wanted everyone to hear what they were saying, to listen to them.

Some people applauded. Some people shook their heads, disapproving. But Lucas didn't care. Those people had no right to tell them what to do. Freedom was thanks to them, and they all seem to forget about that.

They arrived at the City Hall and stopped in front of the building. Lucas took a megaphone and chanted louder their slogan to be heard by those who could help them. He went on the stairs and made a sign to tell everyone to stop yelling before turning to the City Hall and seeing the mayor behind his window.

- "Sir!" Lucas called out. "As you can see, we are all furious against you and your policies! Seven years ago, none of you hesitated to send thirteen years old kids to fight on the front while you were here, safe, your fat ass on your comfy chair! But now that the job is done, what do we have!? Rejection, hate, and disrespect! This is not our home anymore! THAT'S NOT WHAT WE DESERVE!"

- "NO!" the other militaries shouted.

- "We will come here every day, peacefully, until you deign to receive us in your office, to listen to us, and to do something to change things! Because you have the power to change things! War is over, but this town is far from being a peace place for all of us!"

- "FIGHT FOR THE PEACE! PEACE FOR THE FIGHTERS!"

Lucas raised his fist one more time, making shout his comrades. The former militaries sat on the ground, chanting the slogan, while Lucas was still standing, looking deeply into the mayor's eyes. Lucas knew the fight was far from being over. But he was ready for it. He was trained to fight, and he would show them what he was capable of.