Disclaimer stuff: I dun own Siege or any of it's characters, so don't sue me ples.
P.s: yes, this is an experimental chapt. And its unfinished right now, I know. Expect frequent updates on the chapt as I struggle to fix this. :P
Also those out there with bad moods right now, DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY! I mean it! This will trigger some people. And that's a warning. This chapt is dark on the end.
I.I.I
-In these times-
There was a question they always asked us in our line of work, one simple line: 'Why do we fight?'
You may think it is easy to answer, and for some people it was. Fight for fame, fight for honor, fight for country, fight for money, fight for life!... Things along those lines, are answers you find for most of the time if you ask a soldier.
But to answer that question is not an easy task as one might think it is. Well, at least it was not for my case. From the day I joined the GIGN, I had absolutely no clue what to do or why am I here. I was a soldier; I fight because it's what I do, because it's my job. But why do I fight, was still a mystery to me even till this very day.
Is it because of fame I seek? Because of the glory of what a soldier can bring with all the admiration from the people? No. I don't like too much attention in public.
Is it because of fortune that I fight? Sure, being a soldier pays you well. But it's just like every other job you can find out there. It gives you something to buy and grab a bite for the next day, it's all what it does. So no, I don't really mind the pay roll all that much.
Is it because of duty that I serve? To fight on the fronts where no one knows? To save my homeland every day, without it even knowing? Fancy, but I'd rather not dwell on it too much as I am no zealot.
So why do I fight?
Well this may seems cheesy to you, but I fight because of my loved ones. That's really the only purpose I still serve in the special force. I fight for my parents, who are sitting at home right now enjoying their well deserved rest after so long they have been working hard to feed our family day by day before. I fight for my friends, who are now attending to their own businesses with the families of their own, going through their own lives. I fight for my country's people, because what other cause can be as noble as that? To see them happy, to see them smiling and to keep them from seeing the horrors of what the world can actually bring, is a more then rewarding enough prize for me.
But more than anything, I think the main reason why I kept on fighting, was for a special someone at my home town. And that was a fact that not many know about me.
A girl who came in the name of Ana, a beautiful woman indeed, with golden locks and a graceful smile who took my breath away every time I saw her. She was my light during my hardest of times, times where I fell into the deepest pits of sorrow and agony and she helped me up. She gave me hope, as she was the only one who I felt truly connected to, as she was the only one who got to know what I was under all of my shyness and awkwardness. She gave me strength in my times of training, as every thought of her, waiting for me back at home, was how I endured the relentless pains they threw at me during my time training as a GIGN.
She saved my life, she gave me a new one, she gave me a reason to change, to help, to see faith again in humanity's best. She was everything I tried so hard to become, a better man, a better person.
She was a saint to me, as everything I saw and believed in was based on her.
And for that I loved her. I loved her so much. I believed I was invincible when I was with her, that nothing in life can hurt me anymore when I was with her. And nothing can hurt me.
Nothing except for the only three words she said.
"I am sorry."
And those words ended everything I had in life…
.
All my faith, all my belief, everything I stood for, gone. There was no noble cause anymore, there was no hope anymore for me. There was only the emptiness of one's heart. As she just stepped away from my life, no goodbyes, no wishes for luck, nothing but those three final words as she left my life for good.
.
I find it almost funny on how much three tiny words can affect a person. Tiny words that can stab your heart and rip it open. Words that drives you into utterly madness; words that can throw you in an endless pit of pure sorrow. Yes, funny isn't it?
You may be laughing right now. Looking at how stupid all of this sounds, how cheesy it may be. In fact, I know you are.
But when you met someone that gives finally give you an actual reason to live for, and that same person just tears it away from you in the most agonizing way as possible? I don't think you can laugh at that.
.
And that was, the only real time, when I thought I had gone insane as well. As for a matter of fact, I did go insane.
I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I didn't do anything for weeks. I couldn't. How could I? When the lingering guilt flows in my head, repeating it's self over and over again? Questions I made for myself, like why couldn't I be better? Why couldn't I live up to her standards? What did I do to deserve this? What did I do wrong?
They were like a melody, playing over and over again. A cruel joke granted by life to me in the most absurd way possible.
At that moment I wanted to scream, I wanted to tear apart my head and end that miserable song dancing around in my mind!
I wanted nothing more than to hold up my .357 and pull the trigger…
.
The sad thing is. I can't… I was too much of a coward to do so. Or that was so I kept thinking…
It's hard to form an actual thought at the time when your mind is clouded with so much turmoil, but through multiple times of hesitant pulls of the magnum in my hand. I stared at the chrome barrel of the gun in an endless stream of thoughts. Before finally, coming back to my scenes and putting it down…
"This wasn't right..." That's what I told myself in the most logical way as possible.
And I consider myself lucky with my decision to not pull the trigger at that time… That doesn't mean I was too happy with the thought of not doing so…. So, now I'm here in another day at Herford…
Living with the thought of being a coward.
Of someone who is too much of a scared cat, to not being able to do such a simple task of putting a piece of lead into one's head…
I am pathetic. I'm weak…
I don't deserve this.
I don't…
.
But every time I thought of it, I was conflicted. A part of me wanted to hold that gun back up again, and to end the trail of thoughts right here and now. Cleanly, purposely, liberating…
But then again, the other part of me did everything in its power to deny it. Saying that, there was another purpose to live, saying that the team still needed me here for their service. And who was I to let that mission go? I won't let that mission go. At least, not now... So I continued living, living with the painful shrapnel that is embedded into my thoughts ever since…
.
So what did I do since that you ask?
I do routines, because what else could I do? I stayed in Herford and I stick with their rules.
I do shooting practices, a lot more then I should. Up to an unhealthy amount, as Doc said to me, but I don't really care.
I was too busy shooting away my thoughts hours upon hours, I lost count of time as I did so. All of my shots however were just sloppy shots fired at the frame of an overused dummy. Over and over again… The poor thing's head of it was clearly ripped apart by the countless amounts of 5.7s; and its torso now filled numerous holes, to the point where its insides flipping out in a pattern I recognized so fondly; it was the same pattern you will recognize whenever you shoot someone in the stomach, the gore splattered everywhere, and I loved seeing it like so for some reason.
The dummy still just stood there and took those shots, agonizing, revealing to the world of its fate of being punished again and again by the shooter… I didn't stop shooting. I couldn't.
I don't know why I can't.
Maybe I was enjoying too much of this… because that dummy reminded me so much of myself. And I hated it too much to stop; it doesn't deserve to have the pleasure of stopping its punishment.
.
So again, another magazine snapped firmly into place on my P90. Another cock of the bolt indicates the gun was once again ready to fire. And another salvo of blazing metal quickly finding its mark on the dummy's face.
Ripping through the eyes of the dummy punching deep blacken holes on it's sockets, then the golden rounds tear through its chin, and finally a round firmly emplaced its self on the noggin. Flawless… I thought to myself.
"I think that's a bit more than enough for an over kill, don't you think?"
Startled, I turn to face the person intruding my practice. Gun still in hand, and reflexes quickly springing to action as I aimed at the head of the intruder with my finger ready on the trigger. My breathing was tense, my eyes flaring with anger, and my body set into motion ready for combat, ready to kill.
Luckily, I regained my senses before I did something stupid. And god, I would rather kill myself then to even dare harm the person in front of me right now.
"Hello, Emma…"
"Hello, to you too." She greeted me back with an uneasy smile. Obviously still shocked with the sudden reaction I gave to her, as her green eyes were still staring at the gun on my hand with tense.
Realizing, her uncomfortable posture I pointed my gun downwards. This did relive her somewhat.
"Why are you here, Emma?" I asked her casually, but my reply came out much harsher then it was intended to.
Her eyes now faced mine, and with that she answered with her arms crossed. "Just checking around here, and to call you back in."
"Why?" I grunted.
"Because it's dinner time? And the fact that you have been here for straight 3 hours now?"
"What? 3 hours?"
"Yes. 3 hours, Julien." She pointed out.
How was it 3 hours? I've just been her only minutes ago! Or is it? I don't know anymore.
"Anyways." She continued.
"You've done more than enough training today, Julien. It's off time now, Thatcher says so himself. Besides, you must be starving by now." She smiled at the end of her statement.
How was this enough?
This is not enough! My business with this dummy is not finished!
"You go ahead, I'm not hungry." I told her lowly.
That made her frown a bit but her lips perked up again as she continued.
"Oh? Are you sure?" She asked back playfully.
"Because I think you'd have much better accuracy with a full stomach."
A rumble on my stomach indicates her point. But still.
"No. You go ahead, I got to finish these shots." I turned back and picked up my gun once more, planting another burst of golden metal into the dummy's torso.
Another burst, and another, and another followed... Continuous shots to the dummy, who was still unmoving in its spot.
Stupid dummy, just break already! I mentally scolded the thing.
But as I turned to pick up another mag from the back, I saw her still standing there, unmoving also.
"Don't you have better things to do right now?" I asked bluntly, a hint of annulment present in those words.
"Don't you?" She snapped back with her arms still crossed.
"I got training to do." Well, that was supposed to be the reason I'm here anyways.
"And why so?"
"Because I need to."
"And why is that?"
"None of your business." I spat.
The gun raised again, the barrel was smoking hot already, it doesn't seem to be taking the constant beating from the heat too well. But ignoring this I cocked the bolt back it let out a cloud of grey and blackish smoke, as if they gun was choking on the powder of the previous rounds already expelled, but I gave it no though as my eyes lined up again with the sights.
My finger finding it's place firmly to the hair of the trigger. And my eyes slightly closed as I was ready to fire again, ready to punish the poor target with relentless anger.
But with a swift motion, a hand flipped the safety back on the gun, just as soon as I was about to do so.
Twitch looked at me with those half challenging, half worried eyes.
"Why are you here so often, Julien?" She asked with a soft voice.
"It's none of your business." Was all I grunted out to her.
"Your gun is already melting under all that heat." She pointed out to the smoking chamber.
"It will hold."
"It might blow. It's dangerous." She looked back at me with those concerned eyes.
"So?"
"So. You'll get hurt, idiot!" She gave a light giggle.
"Then that's for the better!" I replied with a slightly angered tone.
That gave her another widening shock. She gone quiet for a moment. Thinking of something with deep thoughts as she continued to stare at my unusual behavior.
"Julien…" She said with a worried voice.
"Is something wrong?..."
"No."
Her left brow arched up, and her stance now was authoritive to mine.
"Julien… Just tell me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because there is nothing wrong." I finished as I swept her hand away from the gun rudely dismissing her touch to the weapon.
It was raised again to my cheeks, and safety now flipped down wards, an unrelenting stream of lead quickly found its self being expelled violently out of the barrel, with a puffy dark orange cloud, it roars and crisps with each round leaving the gun and entering the air.
The rounds slam themselves into the target, only to find that it was now just a piece of scrap with barely a piece holding back together. It was now mauled, mangled, and torn apart like a ragdoll. But I didn't stop shooting.
Clicks of the hammer against a hollowed magazine, notifies me on the weapon is now indeed empty.
A breath left my mouth, one I didn't even know I was holding until now.
After seeing me finishing those shots she continued on with her question.
"Now that you are done, can you please tell me what's going on with you?"
.
Silent was all I give to her, as I picked up another mag from the back.
She slaped the mag away from my hands.
"What the hell do you think you are doing!?" I screamed at her.
"What's wrong?" Was all she said.
"There is nothing wrong!"
"That's bullshit! And you know it!"
"Why do are you so persistent on this!?"
"Why are you trying so desperately to hide it then?!"
"Because I don't want to talk about it!"
.
"What is wrong? Tell me it, Julien. I can help."
"No!"
"Julien-"
"Why do you even care!?" My sudden reply was much more hurtful then it should be.
God dammit. I can visually see her hurt by those words. Her smile was now weaken, and her eyes are filled with weary after that statement. But as hurtful as she looked right now, she didn't back away or flinch.
.
"Because I do." She spoke softly; not turning away from me, even if she doesn't looked too comfortable right now.
"No, you don't." Was all I gave out.
"Yes, I do!" She countered.
"That's a lie!" I screamed at her, my eyes now furious at her statement.
I know it was. I know she doesn't care, she is only doing this because she feels bad for me. I know that for a hard, cold fact. No one cares for me, no one ever did.
But that doesn't mean it justifies what I just done to her.
That screech just took the last straw away from her. And I could see from the corner of her eyes, a small trail of water started to drip down. But her emerald orbs now filled with a much darker shade to them, I can see the sparks going off under those eyes.
"Excuse me?!" She screamed.
I know I screwed up. But what can I do now?
"You know that's a lie! You don't care! You only came here because you feel bad for me! Because you think I needed help!" I continued my stance at her.
"What!?"
"You know it's true!"
"All of you do! You guys don't care about me! You never do! So just shut up!"
I can't back up now…
…
Her face was now horrified. Oh no.
"Julien…"
"Just please. Stop… ok?..."
.
"Just please… go away…"
I never wanted to say those words, god, I never did. But why did I do such a thing? Why?
"No…"
.
"What?" I beamed back at her.
"I said no!" She spoke sternly.
"I won't leave you like this!" She partly screamed.
It took another moment for her to figure out her next words. "Tell me what is wrong Julien."… "This isn't you…" Her words now pleading…
I gave nothing to her. Not a word. My mind was still trying to process what just happened.
"Tell me… please."
Yes, I wanted to tell her about it all. But the sad thing is. I can't.
"Julien…"
She'll laugh at me… like they all did. She'll see me as a weakling if I do so.
"Let me help."
.
"No."
And that was my decision.
Emma's eyes widen once more to my response; worry, sadness and anxious now flooded her pupils. Never did I see her like this before.
"Julien…"
"Just go away." And those were the last words I spoke of.
Never did I saw her so hurt like this before. Not even when she's hit by burning brass she looked this much hurtful… And it was because of me that she's like this.
I hate myself. I hate it.
She was my friend! Someone I look up to! And what the hell am I even doing to her right now!?
.
"Ok…" the tone came blank from her, there was nothing to it. No sad, no mock, no disappointment, not even a hint of energy left to it, just, weak.
And like that, she quietly walked back into the corridors, not saying a single word as she did so.
No, don't go…
Please… don't go…
But those words never came out of my throat...
So she left. She left in an cluster of confusion and sorrow now strapped to her shoulders, after that.
The sound of the doors flapping weakly side to side filled the empty ambiance of the range is the harsh confirm of her departure.
What have I done?...
What have I done!?
Slamming a fist down to the gun range's counter I screamed out loud all my pain. It was like a cry almost. A cry of the growing guilt being expelled violently out of my system; a cry of anger, of confusion, of regret for the sudden realization of my actions.
"WHY!?"
"WHY GOD DAMMIT!?"
.
I don't know what I am anymore. Not after this… Not after the fact I just turned down my best friend and treated her with cruelty, when she was clearly just trying to help!
…
What am I anymore?
.
I don't know…
I need to know…
But do I really want to know the truth?...
.
.
.
The night came slower than usual, that was all I knew that day. After the "incident" in the shooting range, everything seems to go slower afterwards. So here I am again, once again alone in my room, left with my own thoughts…
Why did I do it?
Why?...
Why must I be so much of a dick?
The thoughts swirled in my mind, looping again, and again, and again…
Why must I do that?
Why?
I seem to be asking those question one too many times now, because I've been asking blindly to the nothingness of the empty cabin, just sitting there, preying, hoping for anything, anyone, to answer me. The darkness of the room and it's quiet ambiance was all I got however.
So, I just continued to sit in my spot, looking for the answer. While I asked myself those questions over and over again. So many of them, I craved for anyone to answer me them. So many of them I ponder to myself. But amongst them all, was one that never left my mind.
What am I anymore?...
This little heart break seems to have a much bigger effect on me then I originally thought it did… Oh god.
What was I even doing? What was I even thinking? She was my friend! My best friend!... And I did this to her…
I am a horrible person…
I am a shame for the team…
I don't deserve this. I never did.
.
I sat there, in silent. Listening to what the room had to offer, hollow breezes of winds, sweeping sounds of dust trailing. And a metallic click of a hammer being pulled back…
I sat there and stared, I stared at the .357 again with temptation. Taking in it's features once more, admiring the strange beauty of it. The cold chrome, the light touch of the trigger, the heavy wooden grip that felt so homey on my hand. It was beautiful, alluring almost. And It's calling me. It's calling me to pull the silver hair of it and it tempts me with its offer for my relief to all of my problems...
It would be a shame if such an offer is rejected now wouldn't it?
Just a light tug, nothing more. Even a baby can do it.
So why can't you?
.
Yes. Why can't I?
…
I want to end this. To leave all of this behind. I want to end this pain, and guilt. I just wanted to be free from all of this misery...
.
So I held up the gun and my thumb lightly careressing the side of it. My fingers trace the delicate lines of polished steel on its barrel.
My grip now loosen a bit on the fine wooden grip, as if the gun was a delicate piece of glass and I wished to cherish it. One final time…
The round drum now lent to the left. Revealing little pockets meant for fine crafted brass to be chambered.
Looking on the table in front of me, 6 tubes of golden metal stands in their wait. All lined up perfectly, all awaiting to be used. They all looked ready, and they all looked eager for their supposed fate.
So I picked the one on the furthest. Examining it like a fine piece of jewel. It's coat shines in the dim light, it's tip painted in a beautiful shade of orange. It's weighed in the perfect amount. And it fitted snugly in the chamber.
One round was all I needed.
One round will it be.
The chamber is now closed. The hammer pulled back again.
The gun pointed up to my chin. And the cold tip of the thing made my shiver a bit.
So this is it.
This is where it all ends. Isn't it?
.
A flip of the round cylinder indicates the weapon is ready.
.
I guess it is so.
I looked up to the ceiling. And my eyes now closed.
After all of this. After all I've lived for. This was it.
I felt a strange chill careressing my skin with its breeze. And I felt a single droplet trail down my cheeks.
This is how it all ends.
.
Maybe this is for the better.
Maybe it is so.
One less mouth to feed for the team, one less burden. One less asshole to look after, one less cruel friend to speak to…
Am I happy?
.
No.
.
But what can I do now?
"Nothing…" A final dry chuckle rang through the room.
.
Any last words?
"I'm sorry Emma."
.
Take care of yourself.
And a click was the last thing I heard…
…