Blood, Shells, and Peace

Chapter 1

Why does blood mean something if everybody has it? Why do I train every day for an event I might not even see? What is the true meaning of peace?

The questions dance in my mind and I sigh. The only glimmer of light scatters through a small iron window, spiders and flies squeezing through the biggest gaps. The white painted brick is yellowing from the dirt, the cracks filled with a sticky black substance. I don't want to know. My broken cot lays on the floor next to me. I am not really sure if I have ever had a home, but this bitter place isn't it. I have lived here my whole life, but I am alone. Why keep me in prison while everyone else roams free? The clack of the door props me to my feet. "I am not hungry," a mumble escapes as I peep the door open. "Good morning, unwelcome halfwit."

"Are you ever hungry?" he looks at me for a moment before asking, "what is that supposed to mean?" The thing is, Kastat is beautiful but not a single brain cell fires in his big head; however, he does know he is handsome, which is one of the most annoying traits about him. He enjoys his angular jaw, perfect nose, and dark hair. His eyes are a colorless blue that describes the depth of his spirit. As always, Kastat is wearing his training uniform already.

"Your pants" I mutter, "they are not your uniform."

"What do you mean they are not uniform? I could just leave you here." He smirks. Kastat is the brutish idiot who feels he needs to be nasty every chance he gets. I guess he is having one of those days that he is regretting his life choices or maybe he is just having his man-period.

"Look, they are a chick's uniform. Where were you last night?" the corners of my mouth tug and Kastat ruffles his hair and leaves to the male quarters. He bumps his shoulder into a beautiful woman. She curses at him and continues to me. Her yellow-gold eyes contrast her slick black hair. She is tall, lean, and walks with a long gait. The angles of her collarbone and muscles are just as impressive as her combat skills. She is in her casual dress like me. I only wear my uniform when I have to. Ganra Brayas is on my team and is an acquaintance of mine.

"It's not who you're lookin' at Ares, it's what you're lookin' at," she beams.

"Sure. Did you check out Kastat's pants?"

Ganra giggles, "Yeah, and you saw more than his pants!" I roll my eyes, the comment bouncing off her as if it were made of rubber. She is the most intelligent on the team, hence the wit. She is pretty good at hand to hand combat but is a terrible shot.

"Can you tell me why I get locked up alone every night instead of being in the communal quarters?" I ask her. Ganra is on my team like Kastat is, but she is Tull Droth's right hand. He is the last member of our team and is position one, and yeah, maybe I trust her. My favorite "t" word. I shudder.

"I told you already, I don't know. I ask Droth about it and he said it is above his pay grade. Why does it bother you so much anyways? I think you're lucky." Her voice is truly sorry and genuine. She really is the closest thing I have to a friend. I shudder again. We start walking to the training rooms.

"I hate it. I am seriously the only one here that gets locked up every night like a prisoner. I want to be welcomed into whatever goes on around here. I want to be noticed as someone who is the best they can be. I want to be the one who inspires and motivates lower ranks to build our division to the lead of the Edrayian military. It is impossible to be the person I want to be when everyone sees you get locked in concrete walls every night!"

"I am so sorry Helle, I wish I could do something. But honestly, do you really want to be noticed?"

"You're right, but I would be happier if I had the choice." A sharp humorless laugh sounds from beside me.