18 || Torn Scarf

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Another nightmare for you.

To lose someone, either a comrade or a friend, you were so used to seeing them dying in front of your eyes.

It was the first war you were a part of in Marley. You made an acquaintance with a little girl around your age, a sniper. She always tied up her brown hair into a messy bun, and there was a scar on her chin where she confessed it was from the training days (while you fully knew it was courtesy of her abusive father).

You could still remember her dream of becoming the first female higher-up in the Marleyan Military. She wanted to make her mother proud, mayhap even taking her old woman away from that rotten house. At this cause, you fully supported her, to the extent you asked Commander Magath so he could put you on the same field as her, dodging all the bullets coming her way.

Day three. They said that the war had ended. There was no sight of the enemy on the battlefield, so Marley called some troops back towards the base. She was just going to stand up from her post back then, her grin reaching her eyes as she felt satisfied with herself, saying how that first war was just the beginning of her excellent career.

Who imagined that a bullet would hit her head? Just a moment after her brag resonated in your ears.

At that point in time, all of your senses captured the details in slow motion. Your eyes saw how the small bullet pierced her skull. The loud bang rang in the air, so loud that you subconsciously covered your ears. Your nostrils twitched as a sickeningly metallic smell overcame anything else around. The blood that splattered all over your skin slowly thickened, making you feel sick to your stomach.

You couldn't even hear your own scream as her lifeless body slumped on top of you, heart beating a thousand times faster whereas you thought it had already stopped.

That was the first time someone died in front of you, so close it engraved every detail inside your head.

You were not yourself for the next few days, hiding underneath many layers of the blanket as your mind repeated the disturbing incident. Despite your father trying to reassure you it was all the enemy's fault and a miscalculation from the Marleyan military themselves — you couldn't help but think you took part in her death.

Over time, you grew up to be a much more mature lady. You rarely flinched over the sight of blood, only needed a little time to hold yourself together after a terrible event, and could maintain yourself well in dire situations. But your mind never stopped bothering you when you faced a certain case of death.

Again and again, you ate the guilty feelings that were forced on you. Like an endless cycle, your mind became your very own hell. And the saddest part was the fact that you couldn't run away from it.

You didn't know how long you had been standing here, in front of a mansion that was coated with a broken white paint. The door was made from mahogany, a kind of expensive wood that only a few people could get their hands on. Mrs Keller told you in one of her letters about this place, a safe-haven in the innermost where you could go whenever you were tired of military life.

The only thing left you needed to do was to walk towards the door, one that you lost the courage to the second you landed. You ignored how the rain pricked your skin, breath staggered as the cold water seeped into your uniform. A shiver ran down your spine right after you stepped forward, bracing yourself for the worse.

Taking a deep breath, your palm gently pushed the doorway that was already ajar, letting it creak while the noise echoed in your ear. As you took another step, the wooden floor didn't even make any sound, proof that the structure was done nicely. Even though this was the first time you went here, you were sure that this place really belonged to her.

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