CHAPTER THIRTEEN - RECENT MEMORIES

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Amelia Greene -

The move into Germany was stressful as all hell. Suddenly, we weren't just in the claimed territory, we were in their land that they were born on, lived on, and swore to fight for.

There was so much running around, fighting, protecting, and shouting I can't even remember what was said and what was done. All I know is that we made it into Aachen alive, and were now taking refuge in the middle of the war-torn city.

Pierson and Turner have been busy. That's a given, it happens anytime we move into a new place. And then, after a week or so, the rush calms down and everything begins to settle into place. We usually see them for maybe a couple of minutes a day. They're never in a good mood.

I can't remember the majority of what happened in Paris. After Aiello and I danced, I had a few more to drink and . . maybe that was a mistake. Either way, the boys kept me safe and there were no further issues.

I do, however, remember a few things. For one, Zussman got with three different girls that night. How, when, why . . I have no idea. But he had a shit-eating grin on his face for days after. I don't know if he counted me kissing his cheek as one of them, though.

Secondly, of course, I remember feeling rather proud of myself that I pulled through my panic and had a fun rest of the night.

And third . . whatever the hell happened with Pierson outside of the bar. Safe to say that hasn't happened since, and I doubt that it will.

I'm almost convinced it was just Paris.

Aachen's okay. It's not Paris. But it was once beautiful. Even though it's German territory, they did not spare it with bombings and attacks. They were desperate to keep us out but we kept pushing back. Smoke still fills the air, as well as the danger that seemingly lurks behind every corner.

"Good morning, Pierson," I say as I enter the tent. He doesn't look up this time and instead just sighs. Turner had given me orders to ask him if he needed any assistance earlier in the day, trusting he wouldn't lash out at me.

I knew what he meant by that. I was meant to check up on him because for whatever reason, Turner couldn't.

"Morning," he replies in a grumble. His attitude can be endearing when he's just being grumpy, and I smile.

"Are you alright? Is everything going well with all of this moving?" I see his tent him a bit more of a mess than usual, but nothing much. Having to re set up everything every time we moved was frustrating, and he hardly got any time in here.

"Everything's going fine," he responds stiffly, "unless there's anything I should know about." I shake my head and take a step forward.

"No, there's no issue anywhere. Unless you need help with anything. Are you okay?" This makes him curious enough to look up at me finally. I scrunch my eyebrows in concern, his under-eye bags are more prominent. "You look like you haven't slept."

"No one has," he retaliates. "We're in the middle of enemy territory." He has a point and it makes me sigh. I have no room to talk about getting sleep, but I didn't get under-eye bags easily and it hardly affected me, so no one noticed.

But seeing as he leads us, I'd think it would be beneficial for everyone if he rested well. "I guess. But you still deserve to get some sleep. Just an hour more, maybe."

"The only thing I deserve is to be left alone." He shoots me a glare, and for a second I'm hit with the intention of it, but then I relax seeing he's only being stubborn. As per usual.

"You didn't answer my question." He lets out a soft groan, running his hand through his hair. I watch it fall around his fingertips, tilting my head slightly, before averting my eyes back to his.

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