Broken soldier

We meet again

As I run back to the back room, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss as the door closes. I take a deep breath as I try to get myself back under control. What is with me? And why did those eyes and that haunting look feel so familiar to me. As I remember his face I flash back to that night. Lying in my own blood, attempting to assess my injuries, I hear the commotion. Bodies fly across the dark room and hit the opposite wall with a thud. I hope one of the thuds I heard was the bastard that has been torturing me for who knows how long, taking me to the point of death and painfully pulling me back. I wince as I feel myself being lifted off the floor. The pain is so intense I find it hard to concentrate on anything else. Until I hear the most sexy, and calming voice I have ever heard telling someone, there is only one left, and I’m not sure how long she will make it. Damnit! I hear him curse, we can’t lose all of them! I have to do something, I can’t just let her die. I feel the warm liquid enter my mouth and I cough remembering my earlier assaults. Then the voice softly tells me, you have to drink this, please I can’t lose you! I find the overwhelming urge to comply as I drink the familiar metallic tasting liquid. I struggle to open my eyes but I need to see my rescuer. I slowly open my bruised and swollen eyes to meet the most handsome man I have ever seen. I try to thank him but can’t form the words. I can already feel my milder injuries starting to heal themselves as I slowly drift off, the pain becoming less and less intense. I hope I see the stranger when I wake up so I can actually thank him for saving me. Unfortunately the only person I saw upon waking was my commanding officer, who proceeded to tell me the importance of keeping this secret and grill me on any information I gave. I am extremely proud of myself for I gave up nothing. I held strong as I was slowly tortured in every horrible way one could ever imagine. No, I did not waiver and I know I am capable of anything after withstanding the assaults unleashed on me.

With a shake of my head I rid myself of the memories. And stop dead on my tracks. That man, that creature, is my savior? Was it his blood I drank that night? I would recognize that haunted look anywhere. The look of a tortured soul that no longer looks for the light. Why is he here? I have not said a word about what I know to anyone. After the incident, I no longer get called out. What the hell could be possibly want? I smile a little as I remember the look of pure fire in his gaze as I fled, I think I know what he wants. Only problem is, by that look, I think what he wants is me.