As the Clock Strikes Twelve

War. It is such a nasty word that can just make everything go down hill and combust into a cloud of smoke. I was forced into this though and it is something I’ll have to deal with everyday.
I now was being held by a familiar stranger as pain irrupted throughout my body. The blood that now seeped through my dress reminded me of the horror I had just faced as my tears and the fog of the city clouded my sight. But, I’m alive. How, even I am not sure. All I know is that it hurts. It hurts more than you could ever imagine. And all the blood that was still seeping out of so many wounds, so many bites, on my flesh made me whimper in fear and pain as my eyes slid shut. I never thought such crimson could exist.
I want to know why. Why did that just happen? More importantly, what just happened? Why had that man twist on me so?
As I was absorbed in my thoughts of the anguish and evil that was just brought onto me, my familiar stranger walked me up the steps of my home. A home that was now filled with tears of sadness and hurt as my father cried out my name and rushed to me.
What has happened? Why was everything moving so slowly? I winced as the pain rushed through my chest causing another scream and whimper to escape my mouth, my hand clutching my carrier’s vest.
“Father,” I cried. “What is happening?”
I opened my eyes and, through the tears of pain and fright, I saw my poor, unfortunate father look down at me.
He softly touched my cheek as another tear slid down his cheek.
“You’re dying.”