They Promised Me

Battle was all I knew. Perhaps that is why I find myself in the predicament I am in now. It is not a position of glory (which I was promised) and it's not a position of honor (which I am due). It is a position of circumstance.

The dim lights hurt my eyes, I should probably stop staring at them. My swollen left eye is hazing in and out of focus. I can still taste blood on the back of my throat, and my nose won't stop sending me fungal orders. I can hear muffled footsteps beyond the door. That'll be my Thanatos, coming to judge me.

I find myself thinking about all the propaganda I had bought into. I’d like to blame it for bringing me here, but it was actually just youthful ignorance. Years later, I know the truth. Too bad one can't turn back time. A shame really.

My whole life I had lacked a voice. As a child I was taught that children were to be seen and not heard. My very function was to play arm candy to my mother in family portraits. I shouldn't say that my parent's didn't care, they just cared more about their own ambitions.

Condensation falls from the ceiling bringing me back to my senses, or maybe I am sweating. Pushing my auburn hair from my face, I hear the door crack open. Enter the Grim Reaper.

For being the very picture of Death, he looks oddly like the old grocer I remember from down the street in my hometown. Homely in nature, with a dark complexion and thick eyebrows. He makes eye contact with me as he enters, seating himself at the table across from me. "Missing your scythe aren't you?" I sneer.

He ignores my remark. "Can I get you anything before we begin?" he asks.

"If you happen to have a Frank Sinatra vinyl I can listen to, that would be sublime. ... Sir"

He eyes me for a moment gauging if I am serious. Finally he says "If there is nothing lets continue."

I nod, "Yes. Sir."

"Do you understand why you are here?"

"Because I was arrested, Sir."

"Do you know why you were arrested?" he presses. His chin wiggles when he talks, not a very intimidating feature for Death to have. I choose to ignore his question, looking up and closing my eyes; trying to envision my barracks. My cot...how nice it would be to be laying there right now. Death clears his throat.

"Private Schultz..."

That brings me back to the present. "You know," I begin. "Joining the service was the first and only decision I ever made by myself. I worked hard to get here, and I deserve to be here, but I have definitely come to some realizations."I put my hands behind my head and kick back the chair, putting my feet on the table. He is obviously offended. Good. "I know how it all works and yet I continue to fight. I hate myself for that. I am a pawn of the system and my lack of action makes me as bad as they are."

"Who are?" Death asks. I ignore him.

"They'll tell me that my contributions make a difference, but I know better. I continue to do mission after mission, duty after duty. Upon my return I am rewarded with a 'job well done solider', but really what they mean is 'good job not dying'. I hate false praise, reminds me too much of home.

"I think you misunderstand." He interrupts. I bolt my head straight up and bring my fists down on the table. BOOM!!!! It echoes off the empty room.

"Don't patronize me! Just because I am a drone doesn't mean that I lack intelligence." I shout. Inhale. Breath out. Inhale. The door is opened by one of Deaths’ servants coming to check on my fit. Death nods to dismiss him, similar to what he is doing with my words. It's hot in this room. The longer this conversation goes on, the more irritable I find myself becoming. I think I can hear wind chimes, but that could just be wishful thinking.

"Private Schultz." Death starts again. I blink, looking at him, his chin still vibrating. "I'll ask you again. Do you know why you've been arrested?" I know. I just don't want to say it. To relive it. Silly Death, why must we play these word games, just be done with it already. I used to believe strongly in God, but what God would let me live on in this hell.

"You know D…. May I call you D?" He shrugs so I continue."All soldiers say they serve for their country and their country alone, but we detest ourselves for putting on that front. In truth we hate what we do, and could care less about the millions of unappreciative civilians back home, or the politicians who pretend to have our best interest in mind. " I shift in my seat, reflecting for a moment before continuing, Deaths’ gaze is unwavering. "The down and dirty of it is, we really care and respect our fellow peons the most. The peons who wage war on your behalf. We replace one sense of self-loathing with camaraderie. Our country says they'll never forget us, but they will. So that's why we hold onto each other so tight, because we will remember.”I miss my platoon. I miss the cold showers. I miss the freeze dried food, but now is not the time. Not when Death is visiting.

"Private Schultz, I won't pretend that I don't understand what you're saying" he starts. You'd better not, I think. This is right up your alley. The side of my face almost twitches in a nervous smile.

He continues, "but unless you speak to me more directly about the incident, I won't be able to help you."

That's true... only Death can help things at this point. "I was arrested for..." The flashbacks start. "Killing a fellow soldier..."Make the images stop."Who forced himself upon me..." Please God, if your still listening..."Beat me..."I still feel his fists." and proceeded to rape me."See.. I told you I only ever made one decision for myself. "So, after he was done with me..." My self worth depleted. "I struck him repeatedly in the head with a rock..." I don't remember if he screamed or not. I remember the warm splash on my face, like a fall rain. Might have struck him repeatedly in the crotch too. "Until he stopped breathing. "

Death almost seemed sympathetic with my confession, not that he didn't already know. I turned away from him. I hated him. Even though he was there to help me. I hated this place. The way it smelled, mold hinging in the air. I hated the pain I felt in my face and the rest of my body. I hate him. I hate me. I hate everything.

I got up from my chair and knelt in the corner of the room, clutching my knees to my chest, breathing heavily. I heard the door close behind me but I dare not look. I retreated into my subconscious trying to survive, but all I could think was...

They promised me glory...freedom...independence...

They promised me...........