To Be A Warrior

Chapter 11: Burned

"Ah. Yeah, I feel that. I miss my home too. I'm lucky though. Even though some things are lost, I still have Josh."  She looks at Singer, as if debating what to say next. "And you have us."

Singer doesn't reply, and Anna pouts, which causes her lipstick to feather out a bit onto the skin around her mouth.

"Look, I know we're not the same as whatever it was you had before, but we're better than nothing. I know Josh is a pain in the arse sometimes. Believe me, I really know. The amount of times he took my good chair and swapped it with his old, broken one-ugh.

"But I think we're pretty decent people to have around. And if you don't like us for our personality, then you can at least like us for talking to a friend in the kitchens and managing to get you a few tablespoons of peanut butter."

She laughs when Singer's eyes light up, her lips parting in shock. Singer doesn't even have to ask before she nods.

"Yep. That's a perk when you're friends with one of the most popular operators on base. You get the good stuff."

Singer cringes, pulling away at the use of the word 'friend'. She doesn't want friends. She doesn't need friends. All the friends she had are dead, and her sister, someone she thought was her closest friend, betrayed her, stole her voice!

She tries to quell the anger that suddenly roars within her, but apparently she isn't able to keep the fury from showing on her face. The memory of a burning throat and ragged screams hit her like a bus, and Singer's skin grows hot.

Anna's dark brows crease with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Singer shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. Anna reaches a hand out to her, but she flinches away.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's alright. Just tell me what's wrong."

Singer looks at her, her eyes searching for any hint of malice, of hidden deceit. She finds none.

But Singer can't find it in her to tell her. She can't risk it. And the pain of it all is too much. It all comes flooding back to her-her failures, her stupidity. She hears their screams, her screams. She smells blood in the air.

"Hey," Anna says again, more firmly this time. "What's going on? Why the sudden switch?"

'There is no switch,' Singer replies, her face morphing into a deep scowl as she straightens. 'I don't like thinking about home. I don't like thinking about anything.'

"Well, you can't just not think. And what's so bad about remembering home?" Anna tries to keep the conversation airy, but Singer's having none of it.

'Everything. I don't want to talk about it.'

"But maybe if you did..."

She shakes her head. 'No! I won't talk about them! Not now, not ever! Just leave it!'

While the words are portrayed through her hands, the anger and bite in the words are still there, shown in her expression, her posture. Anna looks utterly baffled at the sudden burst of anger, but doesn't say anything. She just watches, not screaming, not arguing, and Signer can't figure out if that would be better.

Because she wants to scream, to fight. She wants to find a way to stop this sudden pain that comes with remembering. Why does it have to hit her so randomly like this? Why does it have to hurt so bad? Why can't she redeem herself and get better?