Bullet and a Target

I was suffocating, the pressure against my torso prevented my lungs and diaphragm from expanding. I struggled to find my hands, desperately wanting to push the weight from my chest, but they seemed to be disconnected from the rest of my body. They did not act on anything I was asking them to do. Above me the weight did not let up, it pushed against me crushing me.

I tried to figure out another way out of my predicament, but I couldn’t think straight. The lack of air was causing me to panic and my brain wanted to think of nothing more than its own suffocation. The noise around me wasn’t helping. Whenever I seemed to find a train of thought a yell or a vicious laugh would distract me. I knew they were there, even though I could not see them through the tears welling in my eyes. The soldiers, the men who took amusement from my agony, were surrounding me. Watching their companion suffocate me, hurt me.

Out of options I attempted to roll over, buck and struggle, anything that would free me from the weight pressing down on me. His violating scent assaulted my nostrils. He smelt of sweat and sour mustard. It was all I could think about as the last of my oxygen was sucked from my burning chest. I stopped struggling beneath him as the room seemed to quieten around me. I could feel myself shutting down, my brain taking desperate measures to safe itself. The last thing I saw before my eyes fell closed, was the pitted face of my attacker and the dark concrete roof falling down on me.

“Grace…Grace!”

My eyes shot open and the vision of the small dark cell was replaced the chilly condensation of my dark cubby house, a male face over me and his hands on my arms. I didn’t recognize his features, all I seen was a man and that alone sent me into a panic rivaling that of my nightmare. Acting on instinct alone I struggled to push him off me and loosen his grip on me.

“Grace! It’s me!”

His words didn’t connect, even though somewhere I was coherent enough to wonder how my attacker knew my name, it was in one ear and out the other. Still he refused to let up so I continued to act out of instinct; I threw a right hook in the direction of his face. It didn’t connect. Instead he pulled back in time to dodge my attack and was quick enough to grab my wrist to prevent me attacking again. Backed into a corner, with no avenues to attack left, I went to the next best defense I had. I screamed, hoping to attract the attention of help. But my cries were quickly cut off by a thick hand over my mouth.

“Grace!”

His hand was forceful, It gave me no attempted at escape, and forced my head to the side. So I was looking straight at the man. Slowly his dark features started to settle in.
“Calm down, it’s only me,” He spoke gently as though scared to frighten me again.
My chest heaved with the effort of breathing. I met the man’s eyes, a familiar blue, and followed the strong line of his jaw down. I could see the tips of his dark hair starting to touch his ears. It had never been so long, not in my lifetime. He must have seen the recognition in my eyes because slowly my father’s hand left my mouth, still his hands held tight to my arms.

“Daddy?”

My voice was weak, barely audible to my own ears.

“Grace,” he whispered, relief coming to his eyes.

He wiped his hand over my sweaty forehead. I could feel the sweat pouring from it, down my face and neck, causing my shirt to stick to my throat. Even the back of my shirt seemed to be stuck to my skin with the cold sweat pouring down my back.

“Just a nightmare,” he comforted gently. “Just a bad dream.”

Finally he let go of my arms and allowed me to sit up. I sat forward, almost burying my head into my knees as I ran my hands down my face. The nightmares were still running wild. Every night it was the same thing. The only relief I got was when my father was around, able to wake me before the rest of the dream could continue.

Carefully, almost hesitantly, my father’s gentle hand reached for my back. Even though I seen it coming in my peripheral vision I still flinched as it made contact. He didn’t pull away, instead he continued to rub my back, reaching up to push the blanket of my hair away so he could see my face, and the hot tears that were still falling. I tried to avoid his eyes as I fought the tears back. I had been able to fend off strong emotions while I was awake, I did not want to add any more undue stress of my father as it was, but while asleep and partnered with the agony of my dreams I couldn’t fight the tears.

My father, his eyes tired and sunken, reached out towards my face. Probably with the intent to wipe away my tears as he used to do when I was a kid. Instead I pulled my face away to look in the other direction, reaching up with my own hand to wipe drastically at my face with the back of my hand. My father watched on helplessly, a flicker and pain in his usually bright eyes. He must have known the content of my dreams, I wondered if I had been crying and speaking in my sleep, because his next words portrayed my fleeting thoughts.

“I’ll have you out of here soon Grace, I promise.”

I wasn’t sure leaving the scene of my violation would help. This felt like the kind of baggage that followed you around for a long time. No matter how much you tried to leave it behind. Though some small part of me took comfort in his words. I knew those men were still out there, and worst of all actively looking for me, readying to pounce on me once again. This time I doubted they should show me any mercy and just the thought of their slimy hands on me again sent a shudder down my spine, strong enough to rock my entire body.

Finally confident my face portrayed some confidence I lifted my head. It was dark, the only light provided by the dull glow of the half moon above us. I hadn’t felt like I had been sleeping long, the dreams may have been a culprit here, then again I had only switch shifts with my father in the late afternoon. He had scolded me for letting him sleep so long. I had told him he needed it more than me since he was the one going out at night when in reality I had just been avoiding closing my eyes knowing what dreams awaited me.

I glanced up at him, finally sure the tears had stopped falling, and instantly seen the indecision in his eyes. This was becoming a regular argument between us. He refused to leave my side while I was upset or he though there was a slight chance I was in danger. He had become extremely protective of me since my capture and near execution. I didn’t blame him and for the first time in my life actually welcomed it. Still, I knew keeping at my side twenty four seven, even though this eased my anxiety, would not help us in the long run.

“I’m fine dad,” I lied.

“I can stay tonight, if you need me,” He replied.

I knew he meant it even though he knew it would set us back a few days. By rights we should have fled the city already but we had been hesitating. Usually over his fear of leaving me, or over my still healing leg. My leg had been injured during my capture/torture. At first we had thought it was broken but had since downgraded the injury since I was able to put my weight on it, not comfortably but it was possible.

“It was just a dream,” I told him, still trying to convince myself that’s all it was.

I watched the dilemma of his situation cross his features, the mounting wrinkles above his eyes seemed more prominent than ever before. He knew by my voice that I was not fine, but he was torn, he was desperate to get me out of the city and away from those who had hurt me. He wanted us to be safe, and we would not find safety within these borders.

“Really dad,” I continued, putting up a mask, “I’ll be okay. You can go.”

“You’re still shaking,” He commented.

I glanced down at my hand to see it almost vibrating.

“I’ll be okay, when I wake up properly,” I amended. The dream was still plaguing my waking thoughts, allowing the fear to remain in my system.

“Okay,” he sighed carefully pushing himself up onto his knees. Standing was impossible even for me in here. He leant over me gently and placed a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” I nodded. “Have something to eat and be careful okay, watch the surroundings and if someone comes in this direction, just run. Go to your uncle’s place, I’ll meet you there.”

“I know dad,” I sighed. I’d had the lecture every night for the last week.

He gave me one last tight squeeze around the shoulders in an attempt to calm me before pulling away to reach for his backpack. Filled with the essentials. A flashlight, some water, a snack and of course a gun. I waved him goodbye one more time, not trusting my voice to remain strong, and watched him disappear around the neighbors’s side fence.

I pushed myself up, all my muscles groaning in agreement. The lack of movement and any real exercise was starting to affect me. I crawled carefully over to the open doorway and gently laid myself down, looking over the edge. Again there were no stars out, there were lights on the horizon all situated in the city itself. Closer to home, a small gust of wind was creating a tiny tornado right beneath the cubby house, inside it the ash that was once my home was swirling back and forth. A sad sigh escaped me.

My home, the one I had lived in my entire live up until the war drove us out of it, and succumb to fire. I didn’t know what started it, I could only assume it was carried over from the bombings in the city by the wind. For a few days after the bombs had dropped fire had ripped through several areas of the city, fueled by an endless supply of wooden framed houses, long grass and a strong wind to carry it all the way out here. It still made my chest ache to see the remains of my home spread out across the lawn, in pieces and charcoaled. I knew it pained my father even more to see, he had worked every day of his life since he left school at sixteen using his hard-earned money to buy that house for his family. To see everything he had accomplished spread across the ground so carelessly hurt, not to mention reminded him of the family he hadn’t been able to save.

I had been the only one my father had found alive, and been able to keep that way. After the bombing on the city he had searched for us. He had found my baby sister in what remained of her school, and given her a decent burial, my brother had not been found. He had found my mother, but she had been killed in their attempt to evacuate the city. That was when he found me and nursed me back from the brink of death. We had been together ever since.
Among the rubble, a tiny silver glint caught my eye. I frowned, stringing my eyes to find it again, sure it was just a trick of the light.

Unable to see anything I went to turn away, only to have it happen again as I turned my head. There was most definitely something down there. My curiosity peaked. I wondered if it was something of my families, my father and I had been back a few times since the houses demise. Searching or any reminders of our family and past life that may have survived the fire. Though we had, had a lot of trouble we had not come up empty handed. My mother’s silver necklace was currently hanging from my neck. My fingers reached up to touch it without thought.

Knowing better, and as usual not listening to the small reasonable voice in my head, I glanced around the surrounding area quickly. There was no sign of any other life around, not as far as I could see anyway. I turned around quickly and lowered my feet down towards the truck of the tree. Feeling around with my foot until I found the small wooden rung that was attached to the tree. I lowered myself down the tree carefully until my feet reached the ground for the first time in three days.

Pain shot up the nerves in my leg, and continued to ache, as I put my weight on it. Since retreating to the cubby house I had not put any weight on my leg, hoping it would heal faster. Testing it, I walked carefully towards the remains of my home. The ache remained but it was not unbearable. I pushed on, ignoring the pain, keeping my eye peeled for any sign of the glint I had seen among the rubble. Or at least trying to pinpoint where I had seen it.

I circled around the rubble until I reached what would have been the outside wall of my baby sister’s room. I hesitated. I thought I could spot them small shiny object in the far corner, but walking across the grave site of my home felt to deliberate and disrespectful. I almost couldn’t do it and even when I did my foot twitched back towards the grass. I stopped for a moment, took a deep breath to collect myself and moved on. Letting my foot touch the ash and rubble of my home for the first time. I found my steps carefully, so not to step on anything or trip over. The last thing I wanted was a face full of ash.

It took me a good five minutes to seek out the source of the glint I had seen from the tree top. It was in the far corner of the room, near what was left standing a wall. I cleared away the surrounding ash and dirt with my foot until small pieces of silver started to appear. Bending down, I picked a few of them up and tossed them from hand to hand until the remaining dirt and dust fell away. Leaving behind no distinct object in my hand. I frowned at the small silver pieces in my hand unsure of where they could have come from. Glancing back down I studied the area more carefully. Only a small slice of fabric stood out to me, I picked it up between two fingers. Though it was charred and now colorless, I knew what it had come from.

When my baby sister, Kimmy, had been born. My grandfather had built her a toy box, he had been an expert carpenter, and my grandmother and upholstered the lid in a light pink fabric. It had taken pride and place at the end of her bed for the entire seven years she had been alive. I recognized the fabric in my hand from the lid, from there I could only assume the silver pieces that had laid beside it had once been the latch and hinges.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find, but I didn’t think it was going to hurt this much. My sister had only just turned seven years old. She had been mindlessly killed in the day following her birthday while she sat innocently in school with the rest of her tiny classmates. The bombs had dropped two blocks away from the school, they didn’t stand a chance.

Sharp pain brought me back to the real world. At first I barely recognized that it was coming from my tightened fist, even then I had to concentrate to slowly unfurl my fingers. I glanced down. My fist had clenched around the silver scarps, leaving four small cuts in the palm of my hand. They weren’t deep but they stung, and I could already tell they were going to be annoying me in the future.

I dropped them back into the dirt, to stay. I didn’t need any more reminders of my dead family. I remembered them enough as it was, it hurt enough without the reminders. She was probably better off anyway, I decided in the back of my mind, she was too young to have seen the things I had been exposed to in this new world. Hell, I was too young for this.

Suddenly the surrounds were illuminated by un-natural night. I jumped and spun around, studying the streets for the source of the light, that had disappeared just as quickly as it had came. Instinct told me to hide, and after so long, I knew to listen without question.

Retreating to the three house was out of the question. It was too far away so I ran for the closest cover I found find, a clump of overgrown bushes that was thriving along the fence line. I managed to crawl in underneath, scratching the underside of my legs as I did so, as the light came back around the corner. I turned around and lowered a single branch so I could see out, just as a truck came into view.