Legal Theft Project: Soldiers

Midnight struck and her voices would not stop screaming. She staggered up from the floor, shaking off the blankets, and made her way to the kitchen. Each measured step she sorted through the chaos to identify the individuals.

Step. Sergeant Keller shouting commands.

Step. Ira, spy, interrogation, screaming.

Step. Opposing company’s snatches of confusion as we ambushed them.

Step. Velvet rage sweeping across the field and shouting in gibberish.

Step. Myles screaming her name as everything went black.

Hands shaking slightly, she found the pill bottle and fumbled the cap off. The blocker dissolved on her tongue and the voices broke into indecipherable fragments. And faded. She stared at her faucet and listened to the echoing empty silence in her head. Three weeks until she could find the damn idiot medic who thought peace and rest would solve her issues and shove his diagnosis up his ass. Just because they hadn’t found out what was wrong, didn’t mean something wasn’t. Her logs were sure showing that. She poured herself a glass of water and finally tuned in to the world around her. Late night laughter drifted up to her window. Her neighbors having another party. She went away and the neighborhood went through a shift. Her large house looked like a poor relation in the neighborhood now. She turned to leave the kitchen when something scratched along her back porch. Hand on her knife she took a look.

The dog hiding on the other side of the old bench was no one’s pet. A fighter holed up to lick his wounds. Pretty banged up for all that. She sighed and lowered down to the dogs level. The dog growled and she got a look at the nasty line around its neck. She went back inside and grabbed some turkey from the icebox. She came back out, knelt down, and tossed the food to the dog. Even with the blocker the dog seemed to know this was an offering of peace and its tail wagged slowly. She took stock of her faded shirt, unkempt hair, and decided not to take a sniff. Well, she wasn’t going to argue with the world about its taste in metaphors. She left the dog to scarf up the food and left the door open. She needed to find some old towels, some antiseptic, and whatever else you needed to treat a dog. It was good to be needed again.


I’ve been robbed. To see how the other thieves dealt with screaming, look here.

 

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