Word count: 3.1k

BANG.

Gunfire echoed around me, creating a deafening symphony of peril as bullets whizzed past my frame like angry hornets, attempting to dig their stingers deep into my flesh. Adrenaline surged in my veins as I forced my feet to move faster, my strides to become larger, my body teetering on the edge of its limit. Clutching the M13 in my hands, I quickly checked the weight of the magazine before shoving the catch back into the rifle. My feet continued to pound against the pavement, er- no grass. As I shakily turned my head, I pointed my rifle at whatever threat trailed me from behind. 

BANG.

A rogue bullet zipped by my face, barely missing my skull by a mere inch. What I had seen pursuing me made my blood turn ice cold, my heart almost flatlining in my chest. A mangled beast with a contorted face, morphed with a mixture of every enemy and fear harbored deep in the pits of my mind. No man's land. Gargled screams and guttural sobs emitted from the terror behind me, its mouth... mouths... hung well beyond its chin, or lack thereof. A large machine gun rested in its deformed mess of a hand. Puke began to rise in my throat. The sight of that disgusting creature would make even the devil himself shiver in fear. 

BANG.

Another shot fired in my direction, zipping just past my chest and grazing it ever so slightly. My teeth gritted together as I continued to sprint forward, my face still turned, my gun still aimed. Wait. Where the fuck is my gun? My eyes widened as the weight of the rifle in my hands slowly dissipated, grey pixels of where it once rested floating into the sky before disappearing entirely. Quickly, I turned my face back around, pumping my legs and arms viciously as I continued to run, running faster than I ever have in my entire life.

BANG. 

It was soon made clear that my efforts weren't good enough as a searing pain erupted in my upper thigh, it felt as if a white hot flame engulfed my leg like a raging wildfire. The hollow-tip bullet tore through my soft flesh and well-built muscles as if it they were nothing. "FUCK!" I screamed in agony as I stumbled forward, no longer being able to keep up with the pace I had set for myself. My feet stuttered and before I knew it, I tumbled harshly, impacting hard against the grass."Y/n..." the garbled voice behind me called out, its slimy feet drawing ever so near.

Painfully I winced as I brought my hand down to the gaping hole in my thigh, my fingers lightly grazing the ragged flesh, warm blood seeping into the crevices of my fingers and palm. "How could you Y/n?" The monstrous voice sobbed, the noise reverberating through the air like a chilling symphony of dread. Its rumbling undertones and eerie high pitched squeals shook my core, the guttural wails cut through the dense air like a razor blade. "Y/N!" It screamed like a thunderous explosion, assaulting my senses. Fresh blood trickled down my ears as the sounds around me became fuzzy and muffled. Fuck. This. Shit. 

Using my elbows for support, I began to drag myself forward, leaving a slick trail of crimson behind me like a snail. My jaw tightened as I fought to suppress the cries of anguish that threatened to escape from my throat. With each crawl forward, the excruciating pain emanating  from my throbbing wound only seemed to grow as dirt infested it. "Y/n..." the distorted voice whispered behind me, I could feel its hot breath on my neck, the nauseating stench from its mouth hung heavily in the atmosphere, a grim reminder of the monster's grotesque form. 

My body began to sink with an unsettling squelch, my elbows getting caught against the grass as I attempted to drag myself once more. Suddenly, I couldn't move. Laying flat on my stomach against the terrain, I was trapped, I fought desperately to move my arms, my legs, even a fucking finger, but every effort was futile. No, no, no! "Y/n..." it called once more, almost beginning to sound slightly familiar. "Look at me," it demanded as its voice began to warp into an accent I prayed I'd never have to hear again.

"F-father?"

My body was ripped from the grass and I was brought face to face with my worst fucking nightmare. His grip tightened around the nape of my neck as he held me up by it, his rough fingers digging into the soft skin, threatening to tear it to shreds. "You will regret this Y/n," he barked, his spit flying in my face. "I regret nothing," I whispered back, grinding my teeth against each other as he applied more pressure on my aching neck. A low laugh escaped his lips as he flung my body forward like a rag doll, causing me to smack into the ground a few feet away like a ton of bricks. 

Pressing my hands into the grass, my palms scrabbled against the surface as I crawled backwards, shaking my head violently as my bottom lip began to quiver. With a quick motion he pulled a small pistol from under his shirt. My eyes remained fixated on his emotionless stare, "please.." I whispered as my fingers dug into the soft Earth, seeking for any form of traction or stability. Before I could react, the guns cold, unforgiving metal found its way pressed against my temple, sheer terror washed over me like a torrential wave.

"Seems I didn't train you well enough," he growled, his pointer finger quickly disengaging the safety. Tears glistened in my eyes as the world around me began to blur, my singular focus becoming the dire reality that I was going to die. "Please don't..." my trembling voiced pleaded, begging for even an ounce of mercy. "You will regret what you did Y/n... you will..." he whispered as he cocked the pistol. My words spilled out in a rush, a frenzied torrent of pleas as tears streamed down my cheeks. 

"You're a traitor Y/n."

"No! P-please do-"

BANG.

In the cold grip of darkness my eyes shot open, my breathing rapid and labored as I bolted upright in my bed. Sweat poured from every crevice of my body, my clothes clung to each curve and contour of my figure like a second pair of skin, the bedsheets beneath me were damp and cold. My heart pounded in my ribcage like a relentless drum, my hand quickly found its way to my chest as I clutched it, gasping for breath in ragged bursts as if I'd just emerged from the depths of a suffocating abyss. In some ways I did. 

Tremors rippled through my limbs as my muscles tensed up, the physical manifestation of fear coursing its way through my body. The disorientation I felt racked my bones, my consciousness in a frenzy, desperately trying to decipher what was real and what was not. My eyes darted over to the alarm clock sitting peacefully atop my wooden bedside table, 3:41am. My fingers fumbled with the lamp as I shakily approached it, my knees feeling on the verge of completely giving out underneath my body weight. 

With a soft click, a warm glow casted a reassuring light around the small room, banishing the lingering shadows in my mind. My gaze flicked around my barracks, taking in all the familiar details--the shape of the wardrobe, the bed, the scrunched up blankets, the wooden desk--touchstones of reality. Droplets of moisture beaded on my forehead and trickled down my temples, finding its way to the collar of my shirt. My body trembled as I attempted deep shaky breaths. 

The tendrils of fear continued to grip at my heart, I was a traitor, betraying everyone I knew, how could I be so fucking selfish? Retreating back to the sanctuary of my bed, I crawled on top of the soaked mattress, the wet sheets clinging to my exposed skin. With a wavering exhale, I drew my legs close to my chest, my body folding in on itself as I curled up into a protective ball. The rough sheets cradled my shaking form, a cocoon of familiarity keeping me grounded in the here and now. Somewhat.

My gaze fixated on a single point, the wad of clothes on the floor. The crinkles in the fabric, how a shirt was discarded inside out, a singular sock littered nearby. The soft illumination in my room casted gentle shadows, creating an almost surreal quality on everything surrounding me as I huddled deeper into the comfort of my blanket, the grey blanket, its warm fleece. The grey fleece blanket, the white sheets, the wooden floors, the clock, 4:42am. My fingers clenched the fabric of my sheets, the rough white sheets... anchoring myself into reality. 

Minutes blurred into hours as I remain curled up on my bed, my gaze still distant and unfocused as it rested on the heap of dirty clothes. The dirt embedded into the cotton of the white shirt, the pieces of grass discarded around the pile, the earthy scent that I never noticed before. The world around me faded into an abstract haze, the passage of time marked only by the soft golden light pouring through the slits of my blinds, illuminating the wooden floor in rows of lines. My body lay still, a mere vessel for my wandering mind. The rising and falling of my chest being the only indication I'm still tethered down in this reality. 

How was I supposed to do this mission? How was I expected to face my old comrades and kill them without a second thought? But isn't this was I asked for? I didn't even like my old "friends"...but, Blaze... no, no, isn't this what I bargained? Isn't this what a sick, twisted part of me secretly wanted? Was it really that sick and twisted? Didn't I want to rid myself from the pointless killing, the terrorism, the life I never even wanted to live in the first place. 

Enough.

With a final shaky exhale, I forced myself upright on my bed. My eyes glanced over at the clock once more, 5:42am. My fingers gripped around the sheets as I stared off into the distance, my legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Softly I closed my eyes, trying to regain my senses. The soft hum of military vehicles in the distance, the quiet chirp of birds as they arose from their slumber, the rustling of the leaves beyond my window. My eyelids fluttered open, I'm fine. Filtering through my whirlwind of troubled thoughts a constant remembrance replayed over and over in my head, I chose this. Me. Shaking my head and releasing a soft sigh, I stood up, my feet planting firmly into the cold floorboards. 

One foot forward, now the other foot, and now the former. The warped wood creaked under my soles with each step. My three objectives: shower, get dressed, eat. That's all I needed to do, that's all I convinced myself I needed to do for now at least. Just get to the shower, let the warm water dribble down my silhouette, soothe my muscles, alleviate the tension surrounding me... suffocating me. Get dressed, try not to look like a homeless refugee. Eat, nourish my body, fill the growing void in my stomach, satisfy the hunger pangs threatening to swallow me whole. 

That's it.

That's all.

Just calm down. 

You are not a traitor. 

I promise.

Walking into my bathroom I pushed the shower curtain aside, my fingers grasped the knob and twisted it half way for the perfect temperature. The sound of running water provided a brief respite from the outside world, a water barrier protecting me from the rash thoughts plaguing my consciousness. A sanctuary. 

Slowly, I began to peel off my damp clothes and discard them off to the side, my body was sticky with sweat, my hair was greasy from the roots, and I looked as if I hadn't slept in years, like I should volunteer as the main contestant for the Russian Sleep Experiment. Maybe I was being dramatic, but whatfuckingever. 

As I stepped into the shower my muscles, still tense from the lingering nerves, began to slightly relax under the soothing touch of the water. Rivulets of warmth spread across my icky skin, melting away the residual stress that had me in a tight chokehold only moments prior. As the water enveloped me, my mind began to drift into a more peaceful place, the raging noises dying down until they were just background sounds, unimportant. The water became a soothing orchestration, its gentle percussion a lullaby to my brain. 

My hand reached for the small bottle of soap, uncorking the cap and letting the sweet scent bloom around me. Lightly squeezing the sides of the bottle, its silky residue plopped into my palm. Rubbing my hands together the small dollop transformed into a frothy layer. The soft floral smell suffused in the air, embracing me in a fragrant embrace. Using a delicate touch, I began to lather my entire body with the soap, making sure to get every crook and cranny of my figure. 

Showers were my favorite part of everyday, it served as a decompresser. I was safe.  After squeezing some shampoo in my palm, I began to scrub my scalp and rinse it clean, following the same step with the conditioner. As I let the suds cascade down my body and onto the shower floor, I closed my eyes and tilted my head upwards. Softly humming as the water splashed against my face like rain. 

Finally I turned the knob once more, letting it glide all the way to the right as the water pressure ceased until only a few rogue drops dripped from the head, a soft splattering sound echoed lightly against the tiled floor. As I opened my eyes I reached for my towel and began to pat myself dry before wrapping it around me tightly, folding the top slightly and tucking it inwards, keeping it securely in place. First objection status: completed. My stomach rumbled loudly, an audible reminder that I was fucking starving. 

Once I stepped out of the shower, my eyes became fixated on the fogged mirror before me. With a purposeful gesture my fingers tightly interlocked around a fresh hand towel atop my sink. Raising my hand upwards, the fabric made contact with the misty glass surface. My hand slowly began to glide over the mirror, a gentle squeaking sound filling the quiet void. The towel absorbed the moisture, revealing my disheveled appearance. Sighing softly, I dropped the towel onto the counter and gripped my hands on the edge of the sink. God I looked like shit. My face contorted into disgust. The woman staring back at me looked unrecognizable. The cute, sweet girl was long, long gone. Only a war hardened criminal remained. 

Tearing my vision away from the woman in the reflection, I walked back into my room. Next on the agenda: get dressed. My eyebrows furrowed as I progressed toward my dresser, my hands outstretched toward the handles, quickly swinging the doors open. Oh god, here we go again, the thoughts taking first place, a long drawn out sigh blurted from my mouth. Delusion was key in times like these, that's what everyone says, right? And, I mean... honestly, was I really a traitor if I didn't even want to work for Al-Qatala in the first place? I mean, if anything, they were asking for this to happen. What were they expecting? For me to suddenly be like "oh wow yeah this is sooo great mhm I actually really love being a terrorist and having the whole world hate me!" Like... let's be so serious. Yeah no... this definitely is not treacherous. 

Rolling my eyes, my fingers fished between the limited selection of boring military clothes before settling on a black army-grade tee. As I raised my arms, I slipped the garment over my head and let the fabric settle on my shoulders, my palms instinctively smoothing out any wrinkles, and dusting off the lint. Like... they probably wouldn't even recognize me, I have never looked shittier, and even if they did, who cares? I don't owe anything to them! Blaze... hm. No he would understand... right? Yeah he would, definitely... 

Pulling open a drawer roughly, I grabbed the first pair of cargo pants I could find. They were designed with a green camo, how fashion forward. Raising my leg up, I stepped into the rough textured fabric before repeating the same action with the other side. I slid the cargos up my thighs before adjusting the waist band just above my hips with a subtle tug. There was one thing I appreciated about military uniforms--that my ass looked fucking great. Smirking slightly, I finished up getting dressed by slipping on some white socks followed by the black combat boots near my door. Getting dressed: #completed. 

As I stepped out of my barracks, I closed the door behind me, a soft clicking sound intermingled with the ambient noises of the compound. Final objective: eat. My eyes scanned the base as I started to walk forward, looking for the mess hall. The outside world faded into insignificance once I set my sights on the building I had been searching for. And you guessed it: more unnecessary, endless chatter in my mind. This whole situation, it was good for me. My father could choke on a fat dick, I don't care what he thinks. Never have and never will. 

The gravel beneath my boots lightly crunched under the weight of my body and a small scoff escaped my lips as I continued to get even more lost in my thoughts. Being so wrapped up in my internal world, I didn't even notice the sound of rapid footsteps approaching me from behind. Shaking my head, I softly muttered curses to myself. 

The extra pair of feet charging at me grew ever so near, and yet, I still didn't register it. The inability to form any sort of awareness served as a weakness just waiting to be exploited. Stupid me for thinking that even in this highly secured base that I would be safe. No alarm bells rung in my head, no sirens blaring in my mind, warning me of the unknown threat running at me... getting closer... and closer... 

Before I knew it, my eyes widened as I felt two large hands grab me from behind.