Unbroken.

17: No te quero perder

Today, I'm going to try and punch something with my arm. I'm also going to try and walk again. Walking in both forms, that is. I have been wrapped up in tinfoil, and hot water. They kept me warm. But I still felt cold. Cold on the inside. Like I had something missing. My mind was blank, I was blank. Everything about me was blank. And I was unconscious the whole time they fixed me up. I had finally slept. I slept for two whole weeks. Which was fine, since I hadn't slept for four months, not counting the times I was unconsious. But, when I was sleeping, I dreamt of my friends. I dreamt of us being happy again. But, there was something- someone missing. Two people ,missing in my happiness, that just didn't make it complete.

When I woke up, I didn't cry. I didn't smile. I didn't laugh or speak. I still haven't spoken. I just can't. I don't want to bring myself to speak. I'm afraid I'll scare everyone off. When I woke up.. God. When I woke up, I was basically a robot.

The nurse helped me up, and helped me walk a few steps, then she let go of my arm. I was walking. Finally. I had noticeable limp, but it didn't look like my hip was reformed kinda limp. More like a thorn in the foot limp. A really big thorn. Anyways, I can actually walk wihtout help now. It felt great. But then I noticed the smile on my face, and I quickly wiped it away. Smiles just don't seem right. Karla was taking photos and videos, and she was saying how this video is gonna make her cry every time she watches it.

Why would it make her cry? Its not like I'm doing anything extrodinary. I'm just walking again. I used to walk all the time. I used to fly all the time. I used to walk without a limp before...........before I was sent into the military too young.
Wasn't my choice. But that's besides the point. It wasn't my choice. But it was my fault... I think. Let's change the subject please.

Everyone was staring at me as I walked across the room. They gasped when I fell onto my face. A nurse was about to help me up, but I rolled my eyes and shrugged her off, getting up myself. As painful as it was. They clapped and cheered like I was running a marathon or I just won the Olympics. Dude, I'm walking. That's it. I don't understand humans. Or.... most hybrids.

×××××××××××××××××××××

I had picked up a gallon of milk with my arm. I had punched something in the parking lot as our own little test. I didn't feel anything. Is it good to not feel? Is it good to feel this feeling of nothing? This nothingness. Is it not wonderful? Or should I be happy I feel nothing? I don't know how to feel about this at all. I don't know how to feel about anything anymore.

On the ride home, everyone was trying to get me to talk to them. But I just smiled and hugged them. That seemed enough for them. As long as I am alive and able to move I suppose. They turned on the radio and played two of my faveriote songs. We Don't Apologize by Hoolywood undead and Hasta la piel by Carla Morrison. But, they didn't play We don't apologize until after Hasta la Piel was over. The first lyrics of the songs always get me. All of my me memories shoot back to me as I look out at the golden fields of wheat, the sunshine making them glow.

" Hi. I'm Isabella. Wanna be friends?"

" Sure!!"

Our laughter as we skipped down the street, ice cream in our hands, filled my head, to the point where that was all I could hear.

" You're a hybrid?!?? A half dog?? So, if I throw a stick, will you go chase it?? Will you play dead if I told you to??"

" Bella, stop it. You're hurting me."

She tugged on my ears. She tried to rub my stomach. She pulled my tail. So I bit her. Her crying filled my ears as I saw the whole thing play I front of me.

" Number 0. Glitch Emeraldtsar. "

I remember my shaken family as they called my number on the television. I had been drafted to the war. I still remember the feeling of my hot tears streaming down my face. That was the last time I cried. I was only thirteen years old. Too tall, which made me seem older than what I was. More mature than my average age, which made people think I was older. I still remember everything about the war. The blood, the smoke, the terrified screams of me and my enemies, the deaths. Him.

" B-But you said you would protect me. You promised."

" I'm sorry kiddo. We both made a promise. And I'm sorry I cant-"

" Don't be sorry. Its my fault."

" Don't say that. Its not your fault. Its no ones fault. I'm sorry I can't stay with you. But I will still protect you. You just won't see me. But I will be there. Always. Hey, don't cry. Will you sing that song I love? Please?"

It was what I sang to him and our squad when we met. I sang it to calm them down. ( the

" Carry on my wayward son, there will be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond this allusion. I was soaring ever higher. But I flew too high. Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a blind man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hesr them say; carry on my wayward son, there will be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest.... don't you cry.... no more...."

He died in my arms. I was fifteen years old. I promised to protect him. I promised. And I let him die. I let him bleed out. I winced at the memory.