Chapter Text
It had been years since I was discharged from the military. The occurrence was listed for medical purposes, but I was sure that I wouldn’t have stayed around any longer if not for my incident. Occasionally, I swear I can still smell the sickening stench of rotten corpses carelessly left to decay under conditions so harsh and grueling that one couldn’t give themself any more stress in disposing of them properly, even in a simple fire. I can still remember the sight of festering wounds of the soldiers who’d worked like dogs to weaken the opposing side, only to get clipped by a bullet or explosive, or assaulted by small squads, rogue or not, that managed to sneak past our line just long enough to launch an attack. I always felt lucky to not be a part of that bloodshed, but it never did get easier to see it all in front of me, usually too far gone for my own abilities.
That was, until it happened. I had come to check in with Thomas during a rare break for me, as I admit that I had a preference for him out of all my comrades, and I had begun to rifle through the basic medkit that I was carrying for quick service in case of emergencies. As I made sure everything was there and in order, I neglected to realize that I wasn’t behind cover in a tired, half-starved daze that had accumulated over the attacks.
Suddenly, I heard him shout something, ducking behind the sandbags and reaching to pull me down as well. As his hands met my shoulders, I felt something reverberate through my entire being. Time seemed to slow as I tumbled into the coarse dunes, the numb feeling in my chest making way for something else that I couldn’t yet identify. I looked up into Thomas’ deep hazel eyes in confusion. He had frozen in shock, eyes wide, staring down where the epicenter of the effects were.
As I followed his gaze, an excruciating, near incomprehensible pain set in. Right near my heart, I saw a small hole gushing blood that stained my uniform red. My vision clouded as I screamed in terror, and by the time he’d started trying to pack the wound with gauze and pressure, I fainted.
From there my memory became hazy. I remember fading in and out in various states, once in the medical tent back at our old base, though mostly in the sterile rooms of a hospital.
I finally became fully conscious after perhaps four or five instances, still in the room I’d been seeing as of late. Slowly, I sat up and looked around the room. A small bouquet of plastic flowers was placed on a table by the entryway, surely from my younger sister. At least one of the Arthits still cared about my existence, even to the bare minimum. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought, and continued to observe. A clock, reading 17:13, hung in the upper corner of the room and steadily ticked. I turned to be met with the sight of an IV drip running up my right forearm, accompanied by a heart monitor with an unusually small screen. It didn’t seem to be running, as if someone didn’t care enough to go through with the precaution. I found the thought pretty funny, but was comforted by the fact that whatever nurse was taking care of me was so confident I’d be fine they decided against it.
As I laid back in the bed and stared out the window casting yellow rays of sunlight into my room, I wondered if all of my friends were doing alright. Thinking about them made me faintly remember why I was there, and I began to try and pat myself down to see if I sustained any more injuries. Though, when I lifted my left arm, it didn’t seem to appear in my face. I hoped this was some odd dream and looked down where it should be, and time almost stopped for the second time in my life. In its place was nothing but the farmost end of my clavicle, bandages looping neatly around the opposite side at my torso like a sash. I pinched myself in a desperate attempt to wake but quickly surrendered to the part of me screaming that it was real.
I stared down at what was left of my arm mournfully, too tired of the emotional instability I’ve demonstrated thus far to let myself care. My empty grief was interrupted by the turn of the doorhandle and I focused my vision on a figure entering promptly, holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other— something I could no longer do.
“You’re awake! I expected as much.”
“I have a lot of questions,” I replied, running my hand through my jet-black hair.
“Here, I’ll get the basic ones out of the way for you. You were brought to the prestigious Ro-___ Hospital on behalf of a very concerned group of combat medics— and a few others— to stabilize you after a freak accident nobody understands the events of sent a bullet through one lung and mangled another arm past the point of saving. You were very low on blood and went into a coma for about a month and a half until we got enough transplants to bring you back to a comfortable amount and your brain went out of whatever shock it put itself into. Today is the twenty-fourth of April, for your information!”
I paused, trying to process every ounce of information, but apparently I took too long for comfort, as they replied, “Sorry to spring all of that on you at once. My name is Sage; I never got yours?”
Confused, I stumbled out, “Don’t you already know my name from my medical forms, at least?”
“It’s not the same as hearing it from the patient.”
“Well,” I muse, “My name is Soren.”