PrincipalCellist
Cargo pants covered his legs, not tights. T-shirts were what he slipped on in the morning, and they bore no insignia. There was no cape upon his back to catch the wind. His smile was what masked his pain. He did not stand tall, but bent in on himself, as if he could somehow keep himself together that way. He was beaten and bruised. He was flawed. Beautifully broken. But he was still here. And he would never know that he was my hero.
I hear a thud and a loud cry. I turn around, and when I see her laying face-first in the dirt, I quickly run to her side. Kneeling beside her, I turn her over and jerk back in surprise as I catch sight of the long, thin arrow embedded halfway through her knee. She lets out a cry, tears slipping over her round cheeks. "They know." She hisses through the pain. "They found us." I ground my teeth. "Ah, shit." I mutter. I was supposed to be protecting her, I swore I would, but I let her get wounded. I was so useless. "Go," She says urgently, trying to push me away. "Get out of here. I can't move like this. Run!" I shake my head violently and heave her up into my arms. "What are you doing?!" She demands, squirming. "Leave me!" I press my lips to her temple and take off running. "As if I could actually ever leave you behind!" I yell in reply. In the distance, I could hear the calls of men who had found their bounty.
"Let's go." He begs. I hunch down behind our rock, making sure I'm completely obscured from anyone's view on the other side. "Please--" His voice cuts off with a strange noise. A sob threatening to tear from his throat. I avoid looking at his eyes; I don't want to see my own horror staring back at me. But, if I don't look at his eyes, I'll have to look elsewhere, and that's not an option, either. Not when so many of our comrades lie dead among the wreckage. And God knows, no matter where I look, I will see red. So, I stare at his left shoulder. A safe zone. I shift my gun to rest on my broken right arm. Tear the fingers of my good hand through my hair. Pause. Inhale. "Where can we possibly go?" I ask, pretending I don't notice how weak my voice sounds. He doesn't answer, and he doesn't have to. We both know we were trapped. We were going to die here, just like everyone else in our team had. And it would not be a beautiful death.
writing since 2013 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Cassie showed up.
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5days written
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madokahomurafacesmileeyesarmsheadredlipsdistanceanswersworegunbehindvoicetear