The alarms sounding, I quickly rise from my sleep induced coma.

My heart raced and all the training I received for this very moment flew out the window. The hours of excruciating pain and work, sweat, blood, and tears wove together to form a full year of combat training no longer mattered. But no amount can fully prepare you when you have to suit up and be out on the front lines. How did I even end up here? I didnt sign up for this. No, I wouldnt be so naive to join the army at such a young age. None of us signed up for this, but it doesnt matter now because my death lies just behind that bolted door and I am almost ready to accept a bullet to my temple so I dont have to murder a human being. I feel like a barbarian, with my golden hair in a tight bun hidden underneath a helmet covered in the colors of the outside world. Dirt underneath my fingernails, legs that havent been touched by a razor blade since I was shipped away to this hell-hole, I am a mess from the inside out. Somehow my uniform manages to make its way onto my trembling body. My brown pleather boots, far too expensive looking for me to even dare step in to the muddy terrain that lies a few yards from my approaching self, are double knotted and ready for anything. I search through the fifty soldiers assigned to these living quarters to see if I can spot him: my best friend. He was sent with me. Ive known him for as long as I can remember. He has green eyes and a strong jaw, he is stubborn, but I know deep down he is a frightened man who is just as afraid of taking a bullet for our country as the rest of us. But he will never admit that. He stays strong and silent, saving his words for more important times. But when he speaks, its as if the world stops to listen. He has transformed into something that I dont even recognize anymore. Back home, he talked about whatever was on his mind, and always made his opinion known. Unlike the man I am searching for today, who is passive and comes off as a shy giant. Unable to locate my only true friend in squad 327 I find myself outside and alone. I am surrounded by my own people of course, but the only times I feel comfort is when I am with him. But as far as I know he couldve been one of the six soldiers who were just blown to bits by a land mine our enemy planted. Taking my position behind a manmade hill of dirt, mud, and grasses, I scope out whom and what is my path. A man with fading tattoos up and down his over-sized arms is crouching

behind a boulder. He looks tough, he looks mean, and he looks like the enemy. I aim right for his heart, and before I can even think twice, I pull the trigger. I stumble back a little due to the force of the shot. I regain my balance as I watch my first kill take his last breath. A sudden wave of mixed emotions spills on top of me. Hate, sorrow, strength, pride. I try to ignore these conflicting feelings and pay attention to the battlefield. His face will haunt my dreams tonight; there is no doubt about that. Looking for my next kill, I feel as if my training has turned me into some sort of savage. I am the cause for that mans blood spilling, and I am hungry for more. Taking three more shots, I hit two successful targets. One hits the thigh of a smaller man, who didnt have any life left in his eyes. He is down and doesnt seem eager on getting back up, not now or ever. One bludgeons the shoulder of a woman my age. She doesnt seem to mind; she winces at first, but keeps going. She is powerful like a tiger that has no limit to what it can pounce on and make her prey. She runs out of my sight. The blood in my knees has stopped flowing; my crouched position has cut off circulation to my two most vital appendages. Attempting to regain control, I flatten onto my stomach and army crawl into a ditch where two other soldiers lie, concentrated and ready to shoot anything within range. The one closest to me has grey eyes that are unblinking. He has an open wound on his right cheek, from some sort of blade. We never received knife training, and Ill be a monkey in a barrel if it comes down to hand-on-hand combat. The soldier next to the one with the cut is quiet. Im not sure if she is conscious or not. She is one out of the 23 female soldiers in our unit. Ive never heard her say a word. She keeps to herself and sleeps on the corner cot, where it is cold and damp. Suddenly my thoughts fall silent. Its as if the world has gone to sleep. Gunfire has ceased, no bombs have been activated, and no screams of agony or joy can be heard. My left ear catches the sound of the cut soldiers chest rising and falling. And thats when I see her. The only one left of our enemies unit, the girl I shot in the shoulder. She stands out in the open, panting. She has been shot at least two other times and she looks like shes on the verge of death. But none of us shoot at the girl. None of us has the courage to shoot her between the eyes and put her out of the obvious misery she is experiencing. Her auburn hair is flowing in

the breeze that hits her paralyzed face. She is beautiful really, despite the dried blood on her lips, the three bloody wounds oozing a warm sticky substance. But still none of us shoot at the girl. Another minute passes by and a rustling is heard from the bushes not too far away from me. A boy, who looks to be almost 18, emerges. His uniform indicates he is from my unit. His gun is slung over his shoulder, and he walks slowly towards the only enemy left standing from the attack. His leather boots crunch the dirt that lies beneath him. Walking towards the red haired soldier, he pulls out his gun from behind his back. Aiming for her heart, he will surely kill her. Seconds before he pulls the trigger, I can make out what the enemy mouths before she takes her last breath. Please. One gunshot rang out and the girl fell bloody to the forest floor. The sound hung out in the air, until the boy turned on his heel and made his way back into our hideout. Before I am even aware of it Im undressing back in our cabin. Only a few scratches and bruises will be left behind from our first battle which was decided on being called Auburn Woods, in honor of the last soldier standings hair. Suddenly my old humanistic emotions spilled over in the form of tears. I am responsible for two deaths and one indirect murder. The tattooed man, who had to have been about 30, what if he had a growing family? Now his wife will be nursing a baby who will never know his father. The smaller man, he didnt have much life left in him anyways. But what was he even doing on the battlefield? He was old, and his legs looked liked they belonged to a chicken. He probably didnt sign up for this either. He was forced into fighting for his own country like the rest of us. He didnt stand much of a chance living anyway. But what hurts me the most, the girl with the auburn hair. Her eyes screamed for help, but her body stood strong. She was my age; 17. She had her whole life ahead of her and I helped make her heart seize its routine beating. Im on my cot, lying under a fuzzy blanket, but Im still cold. A warm muscular arm wraps around me. I dont question who it is, because I already know. Maverick. The heat of his

body has reached mine. My skin soaks it up, knowing it will be a long time before I feel this warm again. He twirls a blond hair of mine that has curled itself after I took it out of my military bun. How many did we lose? I ask in a soft whisper, that only Mavericks keen hearing could pick up. Eighteen, he states plainly. Maverick, the fun easy going man I once knew has escaped my grasp. His lack of any emotion but seriousness is irritating to me. I turn over onto my other side to face him, tears still flowing steadily. I look into his green eyes. Brown specks that I have never noticed before dance around the green colored iris of his unchanging eyes; I stare into them and cant help but smile. Kill anyone? Yeah, a man who was a few feet behind me, trying to assassinate me like Lincoln. I turned around and broke his neck. Oh, I say. Turning back to my other side, I drift into a hard sleep. I dreamt of my family back home. They seemed happy, which should be a peaceful dream, but what they were happy about, was that I was gone. I stirred in my sleep the entire night. When I awoke, Mavericks arm was still around me. He is sound asleep; it brings a grin to my face. He always looks peaceful in his slumber. A few bodies are up and moving around our cabin. But the orchestra of breathing and snoring sends me back to dreamland. The scent of apple cinnamon oatmeal fills my nostrils. My eyes fly open to find Maverick sitting at the end of my cot with a bowl of it, and he has set aside a bowl for me as well. Good morning sunshine. That is the cheeriest thing I have heard him say in months, even if it had a hint of sarcasm in it. Its our day off. We get one day off a week. No training, no meetings, no nothing. Unless there is an emergency or a surprise attack. Which only means one thing: I finally get to spend time alone with my best friend. Maybe up in a tree, down by the creek, away from all other soldiers,

humans, and life as we know it. Throwing the sheets off my still chilled body, I reach for the oatmeal. My favorite. Eating in silence, we then get dressed in our only clean outfits left. Black fitted tee, army green shorts and our leather boots. Forty pairs of eyes watch Maverick and me as we walk out of our quarters into a chilled morning. I know what they were thinking. Everybody always assumes that we are in love, and the truth is I did love him. I still do. He broke my heart, though. Another girl back home stole him away from me. I know she loves him, and he her. So Im not sure why I still stay up at night hoping hell come to his senses. We walk silently towards the wood, side by side. I resist the urge to grasp his hand with my own. Well I did try but my brain gave in to my hearts overpowering demands. Intertwining my fingers with his own, I feel safe. He seemed weary for the first few seconds, but the boy I knew from back home decided he too wanted to hold onto my hand. Entering the woods, our combat training takes over. Releasing each others hands, we evaluate the situation. Another full minute passes by when we decide the coast is clear. Gamboling to the creek, he asks how I slept. Good, best night of sleep Ive had in a long time. You? He knows Im lying, but he doesnt have the energy to pull out the truth that lies behind my false statements. I dreamt we were back home. But something was different. The sun wasnt shining, even though it was the middle of the day. It was pitch black, and nobody was talking, except me, he admits. Finally, he is coming back to me. Maverick, the free spirited boy who said what ever popped into his head has returned. Trying to erase the smile plastered to my face, I apologize for his night terrors. You were there, but you couldnt hear me scream your name. I tried running after you, but it didnt do any good. His voice is shaky and a lump forms in his throat. He has never cried in front of me, and I dont think he intends to start today. Trying to change the subject I ask, The creek or a tree? Im feeling the creek today, he answers. Without any further discussion we walk a few yards to the creek. Flowing gently and harmoniously we sit on the frozen forest floor. I watch as Maverick hums a sweet tune and picks at the blades of grass underneath our still bodies. His

fingers halt as his green eyes spot something that has bloomed at the edge of where land meets water. His fingers crawl towards the pink flower, and pluck it from the earth. Turning towards me, he presents the pastel beauty. Its aroma dances around my nose and it brings a smile to face. Delicately, he sticks the stem behind my left ear. The petals peek out from my flowing blond hair and Maverick grins. Perfect. Maverick I start. His index finger is placed over my chapped lips. Shh he interrupts me. Autumn. Im so sorry. Im sorry youre here. Im sorry I havent been acting like my normal self. Im sorry I ignore you at home. Im sorry that Ive never told you that I love He stops. His eyelashes flutter and I make out the word run from his now motionless lips. A dart is stuck in the back of his neck. Rising from the ground I try to sprint towards the cabin. Only taking a few bounds in the right direction, I feel a pinch at the base of my own neck. Ignoring it and trying to keep my steady pace, I collapse.