Dan Howell is Alive * sequel to HIAKDH

5. I'm a Stitch Away

"I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind." - Spencer Reid, Criminal Minds

***

It wasn't raining for the first night in a long time and that was the only blessing. My boots made hardly any noise against the crumbling pavement as I ran, my lungs burning and my legs beginning to ache.

This damn war had taken everything from me. No more. It would take no more.

Phil blamed me for all of this when he had started it. If it wasn't for him my mother would be alive. How could he blame me for me dying? How could it be my fault that he had murdered me? How was that fair? 

I could feel the ping of tears starting to form at the edges of my eyes. I angrily wiped them away. I refused to cry over Phil and this stupid, good-for-nothing war.

"Hey! You there! Halt!"

My blood ran cold. It was never a good sign if someone called you to stop, not anymore.

I paused, turning. It was a man, though I could hardly use that word. He was more of a boy than anything else. Everything about him seemed young except his eyes. Those were as old as time.

"Let me see your Royal Army Identification Card."

I gritted my teeth. Of course, I no longer had one of those. And I didn't quite know what happened to people walking around without one, but I didn't care to figure it out first hand.

I pretended to look for it, patting my pants and going through my worn jacket. I shrugged finally, giving the kid a sheepish smirk. "Must be in my other pants. You know how it is."

He most certainly didn't.

"Alright, face the wall."

I punched him instead, running away before he could recover enough to grab for his gun.

Unfortunately, fate wasn't on my side that night because I ran into two other soldiers who were a lot bigger and meaner than the kid I had just assaulted.

I tried to slip past but they were quick and grabbed my forearms roughly, their eyes squinted in distaste.

"Call the boss," one said. "Tell 'em we got another Rouge."