Freerunner

Prologue

Not everything is really as it seems. I learnt that the easy way. Lucky me, I guess. No, that's a lie. If I was lucky, none of this would've happened.

Let's see, where to begin? Well, my life was going to be interesting from the start, considering I was born in the middle of World War Three. It's the longest worldwide one yet, lasting over 19 years. In these last 988 torturous weeks, disease has dominated the north; numerous people, including children, are dead; god knows how much money has been invested in this fight and I'd lost count of the destroyed war machines. I don't even know who's in charge of anything outside my home. Entire nations have been torn apart, meaning bases within a 20 kilometre radius could be our enemies. The only comfort is that one country is free from this atrocity.

The hate that seems to fill everyone's hearts has consumed them, the greed for the world has clouded their judgement, and it seems the only thing that's better about this world is that there is no more gender or racial discrimination. Any man, woman, even the occasional child brave enough to venture onto the battlefield fights for, well, I can't really say their country. More, whoever is shouting orders at them. I'm not naïve; I know that those who have left the compound probably died excruciating deaths. I've long stopped crying myself to sleep over the people I might've known, stopped biting down on my sheets to prevent the screams that threaten to escape, and stopped having the recurring nightmare of losing the only important thing I have left. I've become immune to any mental pain. Because I know, one day, my little brother and I will be part of the command that leads the next lot of soldiers to their deaths.

Now that would've been lucky. At least for this bloody situation.

With all the anguish that screws with people's minds these days, all children will grow up with the belief that a pure red death is normal, anyone who's not on your side is your enemy, and the instinct of fight or flight. It's sad, but the last person who stood up to try end it all was force-fed petrol until his insides were destroyed. What made it worse was several opposing forces were arguing over who got to kill him. That whole situation just caused uproar from his allies, doubling the violence on that day. Since then, there's been no attempt to cut the chains that drag this hole under.

I lied just before. Sorry, it's become a habit.

I need to be able to deceive the people around me if I want to survive. They can read me like a book if I don't hide my thoughts. I said that I've become immune to mental pain. It's not true. Every time I hear a scream of torture, every time we have to go into lockdown, every time I see the light of hope disappear from someone's eyes, I shut mine, willing for it to stop. I can't show this kind of weakness. If I can't stand seeing someone fall lifelessly to the ground, I won't live to see this war end. It will stop. It will, it will, it will. I won't add to the cause of terror, I'll fight against it.

I'm sure I can survive. I may not have experience but I do have an edge. I probably have a better chance than most. I haven't got much in my way. Except for one thing. I just wish... If only I could get rid of that constant echo of "make it stop". It gets to me. When I feel it creeping up on me, I hide away from the world. It consumes me until I'm reduced to a broken heap. I do what I can to prevent it but once it starts, it won't stop. I don't know how long it lasts, it just happens. The merciless trauma is my one weak point and I refuse to give anyone the satisfaction of using it against me. I need to be strong or I won't ever get to see this battle finish. That is, if it ends at all.

Please, someone, anyone. Make it stop.