Louder than Bombs

Fleeing

warning: throwing up, major character death

When he finally opened his eyes again, his head was still hurting. Jimin was still sprawled on the one stair. His leg was still throbbing painfully.

But the outside world had calmed down. He couldn't hear any more booming or banging outside and for once, he could hear the trees swaying in the wind. He peeked his eyes open.

From where he sat, he could see the broken glass in the kitchen. Further ahead, he could see the broken window. The stench of burnt metal had calmed down, only a gentle whiff was floating around. Jimin had to concentrate very hard if he wanted to catch it.

The broken knife was still at his side. Jimin grabbed it.

He gritted his teeth. His pant leg was dry and crusty with his blood. His smooth dark green uniform was stained maroon in places. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain drove on, flooding his bone and nearby muscle. Jimin gently placed his hand on it. He squeezed. There was a crack. Jimin gasped loudly, pulling his hand away. There, the bone was broken. He wouldn't be able to walk at all now. He was injured. He didn't pose any threat to anybody.

Carefully, he pulled himself up using the railing. Straightened out, his leg hurt even more. With his right arm supporting him, he managed to hop up to the next step. The danger of tripping and falling backwards was right in front of his face. Jimin gripped the knife with his other hand.

He nearly laughed at himself. He must've looked so ridiculous. He kept hopping up. His stomach rumbled with hunger.

There might be food up there.

But was there any hope that there was? Jimin would probably go up there and see nothing. Or maybe there would be something, he didn't know.

At least you won't be an easy target for anybody. You would be more hidden and therefore safe.

But was hiding an option for him now? He was deathly tired and hungry, and he was an easy target. He wouldn't even bother trying to run away if someone tried to kill him now. No, he would welcome it with welcome arms. In fact, he wished that soldier had just finished him off while he still could.

Just keep going.

Jimin kept going, one step at a time. His throat was parched. He would give anything for a bit of water.

He managed to hobble up the first flight of stairs. There was a small landing area before the stairs continued on. Above him, there were two rooms. The smaller one to his left was bare. A few broken wires littered the room. There wasn't any kind of food anywhere.

Jimin could see a bed in the other room. As soon as he made it inside, he flopped down on the floor next to it. A dusty window opened out onto the street below, a large crack running down the middle. He glanced around. There were two plastic bottles in the corner - both had a little bit of water left in them. It wouldn't last for a long time, but it was something. Jimin eagerly looked around for any sign of food, but there was nothing.

He sighed and leaned against the bed frame. Slowly, he breathed in and out. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe. He was alive. He tried to ignore his pain.

"I'm okay," he mumbled.

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He awoke a few hours later. The sunlight outside had faded. A musty smell was starting to waft through the room. Jimin sniffed. His stomach grumbled.

His heart sank when he remembered how there was no food anywhere near him, only a rusting knife.

Jimin slowly got to his feet. The bed looked more comfortable than the floor, even though he could see dust and dirt on it. His uniform was already caked with soil and dirt that he couldn't care. He hadn't laid in a proper bed in so long. Before all of this had happened perhaps. Before he and Jin had gotten separated from the rest of the unit.

The bed sunk under his weight when he sat down. The mattress had coils sticking out of it. Jimin sighed. It was exhausting.

Still, he laid down and curled up into a ball. He could feel tears starting to burn his eyes. He was so cold, so lonely, and so tired. He wanted to go home. This war had cost him a lot.

An uneasy sleep claimed him once more. Jimin figured that he would never wake up again.

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In what felt like mere seconds later, Jimin's eyes flashed open. A nightmarish chill was going through his body. The uniform on his skin felt like itchy grass. He cried out, but nobody was there to hear him.

He glanced around feverishly. All the room's colours were blending together. Black spots clouded his vision. The world tilted on its axis. Jimin tried to turn his head, but sheer exhaustion made him give up. His stomach was hurting. His leg was throbbing.

Every breath he took was faster than the previous one. His heart was beating out of his chest. Jimin tried to stop, catch his breath, think, but he couldn't. His brain was a confused mess.

Where am I?

The question whirled around in his brain, unanswered. He didn't know, he couldn't know. Jimin coughed. He threw something up. He was laying down, so it went sliding down his throat again. He coughed again. He started to choke.

Jimin gave up. He let his body take over control as he choked and sputtered. His airways felt like they were clogged. The stuffy air wasn't helping. Jimin relaxed into the bed, starting to go limp.

Jolts and whistles rocked his body for a while longer before everything started to still. The world's colours faded away and the tension was wiped out. Jimin stayed limp on the bed, his breathing slowing.

Within a few moments, he was gone. Just another casualty, just another number.

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i'm so sorry, its been a year lmao

1007 words