Bullets
This Is War
"Every song, every album... useless, absolutely useless..."
"Dad, please just - "
Billie threw his empty mug into the sink, too distracted to hear the tinkling of now broken china against steel. It was past midnight, and yet Adrienne and Billie were still awake, discussing their son's future. Joey remained silent, too tired to even think about the enormity of the situation he was now stuck in. It seemed like years ago that he had been hanging out with Melanie... not hours.
Joey's father appeared to have reached a decision. He faced his wife and son, his face determinedly set.
"You're not going. No way."
"Does it look like I want to go fight?" Joey groaned, not immediately realising that his head had slipped from where it rested on his hand.
Adrienne, who was sitting across the small kitchen table, took Joey's hand and gave him a sad smile. "You know we only want the best for you - and going to war doesn't exactly fit the criteria." His mother's soft brown eyes seemed to melt with concern.
"Yeah, and if you want to make your country proud, help people rather than kill them," Billie added bitterly.
Adrienne gave her husband a deeply contemptuous look.
"Mum, Dad, I know what you're saying, and believe me, I don't want to go, either." He blinked slowly. It was only a matter of time before the headache that threatened to pounce hit him with such painful force. It was all too much, and he was so tired...
Billie pulled up a chair beside his wife and used his vivid green eyes to give Joey a deeply penetrating look. "Joe, we'll do everything in our power to stop you from going anywhere or doing anything against your will. This isn't fair, and I speak on behalf of myself and your mother for this."
There was a pause.
"I don't want to go," Joey whispered, lowering his eyes and feeling as though he had just been punched in the stomach. It finally hit him like a bomb dropped to kill. War had always been something on TV, something for his father's band to protest about. But now the war was real.
"This isn't fair," said Adrienne furiously. She released her son's hand from her grip and stood up abruptly. Her body was set defiantly, ready to fight. "Look, I don't think the situation can be that bad. We're a huge country. Why so many troops needed?"
Joey threw his hands up in the air. "Does it look like I know the answer? I thought I was going to college!"
"And that's what you should very well be doing," Billie hissed, more at the subject they were talking about than to his son. "You're only eighteen, you have your entire career ahead of you and I did not send you to that school just so you could be sent to war to risk everything you've got. No way. And that's final. Anyone that comes to try and say different can deal with me."
"Okay, okay, I get the point," Joey muttered, rolling his eyes. He stifled another yawn. "Now can I go to bed? Please?"
Billie opened his mouth to speak but it was Adrienne who quickly interjected. Her husband was in too much of a state to let his son go to bed in a peaceful manner. "Of course you can, honey. We'll talk about it later in the morning."
Joey nodded appreciately, scraping the chair back and sleepily making his way out of the kitchen. "'Night Mum, 'night Dad," he called out behind him.
The teenager tiredly crept up the carpeted stairs, taking extra care not to wake his fifteen-year-old brother. His room was just as he had left it as he walked back through the door: clean clothes fresh from the laundry were heaped in a pile at the end of his bed, while old school textbooks lay shoved in a corner, now not needed. Photocopies of the various application letters he had sent to colleges were spread around the floor of his desk.
A sudden thought crossed his mind. Those applications might have just all have been a waste of time...
He shook his head. Even in his tired state, he remained firm about his future. He wasn't going to war. Sure, his parents were going to try and defend him... but in the end, this was his battle, his choice.
Without changing he climbed into bed, closing his eyes tightly and emptying his mind, trying to hope that his last thoughts before sleep would be those of Melanie, not war.
"Dad, please just - "
Billie threw his empty mug into the sink, too distracted to hear the tinkling of now broken china against steel. It was past midnight, and yet Adrienne and Billie were still awake, discussing their son's future. Joey remained silent, too tired to even think about the enormity of the situation he was now stuck in. It seemed like years ago that he had been hanging out with Melanie... not hours.
Joey's father appeared to have reached a decision. He faced his wife and son, his face determinedly set.
"You're not going. No way."
"Does it look like I want to go fight?" Joey groaned, not immediately realising that his head had slipped from where it rested on his hand.
Adrienne, who was sitting across the small kitchen table, took Joey's hand and gave him a sad smile. "You know we only want the best for you - and going to war doesn't exactly fit the criteria." His mother's soft brown eyes seemed to melt with concern.
"Yeah, and if you want to make your country proud, help people rather than kill them," Billie added bitterly.
Adrienne gave her husband a deeply contemptuous look.
"Mum, Dad, I know what you're saying, and believe me, I don't want to go, either." He blinked slowly. It was only a matter of time before the headache that threatened to pounce hit him with such painful force. It was all too much, and he was so tired...
Billie pulled up a chair beside his wife and used his vivid green eyes to give Joey a deeply penetrating look. "Joe, we'll do everything in our power to stop you from going anywhere or doing anything against your will. This isn't fair, and I speak on behalf of myself and your mother for this."
There was a pause.
"I don't want to go," Joey whispered, lowering his eyes and feeling as though he had just been punched in the stomach. It finally hit him like a bomb dropped to kill. War had always been something on TV, something for his father's band to protest about. But now the war was real.
"This isn't fair," said Adrienne furiously. She released her son's hand from her grip and stood up abruptly. Her body was set defiantly, ready to fight. "Look, I don't think the situation can be that bad. We're a huge country. Why so many troops needed?"
Joey threw his hands up in the air. "Does it look like I know the answer? I thought I was going to college!"
"And that's what you should very well be doing," Billie hissed, more at the subject they were talking about than to his son. "You're only eighteen, you have your entire career ahead of you and I did not send you to that school just so you could be sent to war to risk everything you've got. No way. And that's final. Anyone that comes to try and say different can deal with me."
"Okay, okay, I get the point," Joey muttered, rolling his eyes. He stifled another yawn. "Now can I go to bed? Please?"
Billie opened his mouth to speak but it was Adrienne who quickly interjected. Her husband was in too much of a state to let his son go to bed in a peaceful manner. "Of course you can, honey. We'll talk about it later in the morning."
Joey nodded appreciately, scraping the chair back and sleepily making his way out of the kitchen. "'Night Mum, 'night Dad," he called out behind him.
The teenager tiredly crept up the carpeted stairs, taking extra care not to wake his fifteen-year-old brother. His room was just as he had left it as he walked back through the door: clean clothes fresh from the laundry were heaped in a pile at the end of his bed, while old school textbooks lay shoved in a corner, now not needed. Photocopies of the various application letters he had sent to colleges were spread around the floor of his desk.
A sudden thought crossed his mind. Those applications might have just all have been a waste of time...
He shook his head. Even in his tired state, he remained firm about his future. He wasn't going to war. Sure, his parents were going to try and defend him... but in the end, this was his battle, his choice.
Without changing he climbed into bed, closing his eyes tightly and emptying his mind, trying to hope that his last thoughts before sleep would be those of Melanie, not war.