It’s all pieces. Like a photograph that you tore up and threw in a fire, but then thought better of half way. I can make out bodies, bits of faces, but there are gaps missing and features so distorted it makes it hard to work out which head goes with which body. But I know these people came to kill me today.
I think I’m in the photo. I like to think I’m the one at the back, watching the others. The scars make it hard to remember what I used to look like, but I still have that tattoo, a big orb thing with some letters. I can’t see the arm of the photograph, the camouflage paint has smeared.
I was walking home from the meeting. I go to a lot of meetings. AA, VA, other people with their own torn photos. I met Kevin there. Or Kevin met me. He asked me lots of questions about my past, but Kevin never spoke of his own.
Kevin was a good friend until I found out he wasn’t. Kevin died first when I broke his neck.
The others were friend-strangers. Aishling worked in the coffee shop on the corner. Trent had helped me learn to lift again when I decided to try and get back into shape. I knew who they weren’t. I took them down together before Manny, the building mechanic, landed a solid blow.
That split second pause felt like an eternity. I had know these people. Before and after. They were my squadmates. But then they were just people I knew. Manny had to die as well.
Beth was wrong. Beth should not have been there. Beth was my beauty. I’d loved her and she’d shied away and I’d loved her even more. And now Beth held a gun against my head and spoke of days and countries and missions I couldn’t even remember.
“Delta doesn’t die,” she said.
Beth was in my photo. But this Beth did not smile.
Prompt originally posted by WriterDavidChristian on reddit and received 1 upvotes.