Penance

The dreams deny sleep.

The screams keep me awake.

I can’t focus.

I can’t sleep.

Small noises trigger a trip right back into Vietnam where I find myself surrounded by screaming women and crying children.

My heart pumps like it’s trying to escape my emotionally mangled chest cavity when I catch any pair of gleaming brown eyes.

My mind is lost.

I am numb.

She had been young, too young to be surrounded by the tragedy of war and the scent of death. She had been too young to see her mother die and her father and brother shipped off to fight.

I had been too confident to save her life.

My head aches as her tanned, dirty face enters and blocks my vision. I can see the tear streaks; I can hear the soft whimpers as she clutches her mother’s limp and cold hand. I pick up the nearly empty Jack Daniels bottle and grimace as the burning, warming alcohol slides down my throat.

Staring into the wall, I fall right back into the war, standing amongst the rubble of the smoldering hospital.

“Please, Mommy,” the small girl pleaded, smashing her face against her mother’s chest, though the heart there was no longer beating. There had to be at least twelve dead women and children lying in the debris of the bombing. She heard me exhale softly behind her and wheeled around, instant fury replacing the desolation on her face.

“You did this! You killed my mommy! You sent my bubba and my papi to fight, to get killed trying to protect our country! You did this!” As she yelled her tiny little fists beat against my thighs which were as far as she could reach on my tall body.

The tiny child couldn’t be more than six, although she was shouting curses and punching me. I reached down and grabbed her, smashing her arms against her sides as I pulled her against my hip.

“We need to get out of here,” I stated as she continued to struggle.

“’Off me, bastard!” she shouted and pulled away before she rammed her hard head roughly into my shoulder. I jerked her away from my body and glared, sending the most hostile look I could at the little girl, hoping to just scare her enough to cooperate.

“The men here in your country are doing this. They killed your momma and they stole your papi. We need to leave before they hurt you, too.”

“I want to die! Let me go!” I let out a frustrated sigh and tucked her, kicking and yelling, into the crook of my arm, stepping over the rubble while keeping a tight hand on the gun at my hip.

The fire in the far room of the hospital had started burning more powerfully, heating the room quickly. Her skin had already been hot to the touch, burnt from the unrelenting sun of Vietnam. I pulled her out quickly, ignoring her pleas to just let her go and be with her momma.

She had been too young to want to die as badly as she had.

I take another drink as the never-ending tears begin to pool in my bloodshot, brown eyes.

Her name had been Cam. She was six and a half and had a boyfriend named Thahn, and she planned on marrying him. She didn’t have shoes and her once white dress was streaked with dirt and blood. She was cheerful, though, always talking and was easy to please.

I killed her.

“Brian!” she shouted and clung tighter to my shoulder. I stepped carefully over the smoldering fires and destruction as she clamped her eyes shut against the smoke and the stench of rotting bodies.

“Shh, Cam, keep your eyes closed. Almost there.”

I felt the stillness in the air before I heard the shots.

I started running, knowing that I couldn’t possibly protect myself, Cam, figure out where the enemy was, or shoot with the small girl clinging to me.

“Brian!” she screeched again, raising her head to peek around in attempt to figure out why I was running.

“Put your head down, Cam!”

“I’m scared!” she shouted and pressed her crying face into the crook of my neck, wrapping her spindly, thin arms around me tighter.

I tried to bring the heavy gun at my side up, letting go of Cam for just a second. She jumped when the gunshot rang out and lost her grip.

I let her fall, not graceful enough to catch her.

The shot must’ve been low because I didn’t see it bleed until she hit the ground. Blood bloomed from her stomach. The bullet shattered her spine. She gasped once or twice but didn’t seem to be in any unbearable pain.

When her eyes slipped shut, she looked peaceful.

As I stood there, watching her die helplessly, bullets whizzed by, occasionally nicking skin and coming close to kill me.

I didn’t notice or bother to duck down, or find the enemy until a bullet lodged itself in my right knee, shattering the bone there. I collapsed next to the small girl and pulled her body in to mine. I continued lying there, emotionless until the bullets stopped and the sun had disappeared over the hills.

I killed her.

I deserve to die.

I can’t go on like this.