If you don't heal from what hurt you, you'll bleed on people who didn't cut you.
-Unknown

《~》 《~》

5 years later.

I watched as everyone grabbed the most essential supplies before running towards safety seconds before my brain kicked into action. Shouting over the loud noise of gunfire and bombs going off, I dragged one of the injured men, trying all the while to keep us both from dying.

"Damnit Fraser! Don't you dare die on me now!"

The half closed eyes of one of my closest buddy here in the military was all I needed to see to have me losing focus once again and I stumbled over another fallen soldier as everyone around me was running for cover.

We both landed in an awkward position of a tangled mess filled with dirt and blood before my commanding officer dragged the dying man I was trying to save from on top of me. As he yelled a string of explicits, I scrambled to my feet and chased after him as he ran with a practically dead man as though he weighed nothing.

Looking behind me, I saw two more of my fellow comrades running to safety, seconds before there was a loud explosion which sent me flying towards my right. The action was so unexpected that at first, I had no clue what had happened. The sky looked black and there was a static sound before I felt my head connect with the bricks of the blood soaked wasteland.

My consciousness didn't even last 5 seconds as the dark skies became my only vision and that unending second between reality was filled with the rushing of blood throughout my body as my heart first went into overdrive before slowly coming to a stop.

~~~

"Welcome back private." Seargent Micheals says to me and although his words seem welcoming, his tone was cold and bitter.

I blink up at him as my memory began flooding my brain with unwanted showers of the past few weeks and I groaned as said brain began to pain.

"Even though I have about 50 things to yell at you about, I'll refrain myself."

He drops a long yellow envelope on the makeshift desk beside me before continuing. "Those are your discharge papers. You are no longer needed here."

He once more gives me a once over before grunting, saluting me and turning on his heels to walk out. Then and only then did I recognize two of my fellow men and they both avoided eye contact with me as they too saluted and headed out.

I couldn't blame them really. It was my fault our camp got discovered and although I knew they would never admit it, I still felt horrible about it.
My dad would be very disappointed in me, I was sure of it. He tried his best to get me into the army, against my mom's better judgment,  and even this I sucked at.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to block out the noise from the outside world. As soon as I was better, I knew I would be headed back to my small one bedroom house that I spent exactly 5 years running from.

Would it still be the same?

Would I be able to walk the length and breath of it without being reminded of your scent?

I still remembered the heartbreak as though it was yesterday and the second I could move again, I left, ignoring everything and promising myself never to return to that wretched place I once called home.

I've moved on. I tried to convince myself. I've had many relationships since you.

But I knew that this wasn't true. For if I had truly moved on I would have started a meaningful relationship. I would have opened up and let someone else in. I would not be this hurt by you leaving me and I would not be this terrified to head back to the place we both called home.

My broken heart began to race inside my fractured chest and I laid immobile as memories I'd long thought dead and buried, reared their ugly heads to torment me.

Too many scenarios started to bombard my mind yet all came back to the thought of meeting you again.

I knew I would be okay with having PTSD.

I knew I would be fine having to find a new job in my current position.

I knew I would have little to no friends when I got back.

But the thought of seeing you again-

That... that was enough to scare me.