A month in before I was flooded with terrible news. I was talking to a man named Carman Lunder about how to hold a gun properly when the General came to me. The General’s gray eyes clouded over as he beckoned me away from Carman. I didn’t know what to expect, thought he was going to chase me back home because I didn’t know how to hold a gun, but instead he gave me a heartbreaking look.

“Listen, kid,” he started. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he drew a hasty breath outward. “Uh, how do I phrase this? Um…okay, your dad died.”

My bottled-up emotions went chaotic. I felt the world around me become a blur of colors. I couldn’t breathe. I stared at the General who asked, “Are you okay? Your face is gray.” He gave me a concerned look as I drew in a sharp breath, bile rising in my throat.

“I...am fine.” I lied. But honestly, I wasn’t. I felt bitter and furious; I wanted to scream, to cry, to just freaking die. I felt as if this was my fault. My fault for leaving home. I wondered if Mom was okay. I couldn’t breathe properly as anger swamped my vision. I saw flurries of white ire and guilt. My stomach churned as I leaned against my father’s prized gun for support. Screw it. His gun. Not mine, but his.

The General didn’t seem convinced as he said to me in a rough voice, “I know it’s hard. Hard to lose someone you love.” He blinked those steely gray eyes, suddenly tender and empathetic.

Love, I spat to myself. Did I even love him? I just feel bad that I didn’t say “I’m sorry” after I wished him dead. Did my wish come true? Horror snared in my throat as I gave a strangled, “NO!”

It couldn’t have been the reason, right? I didn’t really love him, but I guess I respected him to some degree.

“How did he die?” I asked instead, voice shaking. I felt my blood boil as I curled my fingers into tight fists.

The next word brought me down to my knees. I felt tears, tears I thought I would never shed for my father, but I was crying. I looked at the General, sobbing, “Tell me you’re lying! Tell me you’re lying!" I screamed at him, and he backed away, but not from fear because he had a calm, dry look on his face.

Suicide. Are you kidding me? What pressure did he have? What, he was depressed? I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing though. I didn’t understand why I was crying, though. I was confused. I guess I was crying because I was angry. I thought that it was mean and selfish for him to kill himself whereas I, Jesse, and Mom suffered through worse. Screw him.

In my rage, I ended up drawing blood from my lip from biting down on it too hard. I didn’t care. The General looked at me as if I were positively insane, but I continued to scream: “What was his problem? What struggles did he have?” I spat. “Whatever! I-I'm glad I am here.” But it felt wrong to say that, even though I don’t mean it anymore.

“Don’t you...?” began the General but I cut him off with a brisk shake of my head.

“Anything that involves that man, the answer is forever no.” I bit. Even though it could be important, I told myself ruefully as I whipped around, stalking away from the General who was left stunned. Probably because he didn’t expect his soldiers to holler their thoughts at him.

Once I was away from him, I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Wanting to distract myself, I leaned against a tree and then glanced at the gun. That was when I thought to myself, Okay. I can’t keep on calling this “the gun” or “my father’s gun”. Didn’t he name it? Like some corny female name? I laughed bitterly at that very thought. I knew the gun had a name as Father mentioned it in passing. I scanned the body of the gun, and there I found, embedded in a deep red gold, its name: Fili Mi. What? What language was that? I shook my head and slung it back over my shoulder again.

Holding Fili Mi on my back felt weird now. It had a name. Of course. Father was a mad man. But his death...? How? Why? What was this? I told myself that he was probably drunk, and he died from that. Not suicide. There was no way that he could have died from suicide. No way. I won’t believe it. Fili Mi felt heavy on my back; it was like my father hadn’t left me truly for I had his gun attached to me. It made me feel ill. I wanted to throw the gun away, but it was prized. And even though I didn’t love my father, I felt the need to at least keep his gun safe.

“Yo, Joey!” said a voice behind me. I turned around and saw Carman. His deep brown eyes were filled with concern as he asked, “How’re you right now? The General told me to check on you...” He tailed off, a hand behind his neck.

“What did Greenway tell you?” I snapped at him. He flinched, heat flooding his dark skin as he looked away. “What. Did. Greenway. Tell. You?” I enunciated each word harshly. “Can you tell me? As you can tell, I am not in the greatest of moods.” I snarled.

“Uh.” Carman mumbled, his hand dropping to his side. He drummed his fingers on his side before he continued, “Well, he said that someone died. That’s all. I-it must be tough, huh? Um. Can’t imagine how tough that might be. My fiancée, well, I just found out she’s expecting. She sent me a note. So, yeah.” Carman trailed off, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“That’s bad,” I muttered. “Like, if you don’t make it...” I found myself saying and regretted it. I should have congratulated Carman for becoming a father, but instead, I said something negative.

Carman took no offense. He shrugged, saying, “Oh, yeah, it’s real bad. It keeps me up at night, wondering if I’ll stay alive. Like, if I will ever see my fiancée and my baby and... I don’t know.” He grinned warily, a sad look shadowing his face, making it darker. “But, you know,” he laughed. “Ought to stay positive rather than negative, right?”

“Right...” I had no clue why he was talking to me. Part of me wanted to scream at him to go away, but a part of me welcomed his company. “How long... uh your fiancée?” I found myself asking him, unsure of how to phrase my wording.

“She’s seven months pregnant. The doctors told her that she might be due sooner than average because of stress. I told her that I’ll be fine. When I come back, we’ll be twenty cents richer than before.” Carman grinned at that, a happy grin that contained hope and dreams.

I said nothing, just nodding at what he said. I said I had to go, to check the border, and Carman nodded, saying to be careful.

As I went to the border, I noticed a young man, around my age. He was screaming, eyes wide with pain and terror. He noticed me and hollered, “Sir! End my misery, would you?!” I approached him and sucked in a sharp breath. It was not a pretty sight.

His ribs were jutting out of his chest, eyes wide and bloodshot. His nose was broken, lips busted and chapped. He had a hole, a literal hole in his side and blood was gushing out. The young man’s brightened eyes were soon dwindling down, the light fading rapidly. He had a nasty gash on his forehead which oozed blood, dripping onto his face and coating his lashes. His pupils were dilated as it darted around, wild like a trapped animal. He gave off an infernal scream: “KILL MEEEEE!” He wailed, his chest heaving wildly. “I need to die! Oh, be a kind person and end my accursed suffering!” His eyes rolled in his head, exposing the whites.

“I...I...” Hesitating made the young man groan louder, body trembling as blood spilled out of his gaping mouth. “What’s your name?” I felt sick. He looked possessed; looked like a zombie. I hated that he was suffering but I didn’t want to kill him on purpose.

“Tosh An’gers, oh Lord, kill me!” Tosh begged.

Aiming Fili Mi at Tosh’s chest, I drew in a steady breath before saying, “Speak before I end your suffering, Mr. An’gers.” I told him and he did.

“I’m twenty, lied ‘bout my age. I shoulda watched m’back. Shoulda known that he was gonna shoot me. AW, I WANNA DIE!” Tosh screamed, wailing as his side wound split more blood. “Got a boyfriend back home—his name is Finn Her—ah, screw it. I’m so sorry Finn...I said I was goin’ home. Said we’re gon’ to have a life. Kill me! I’m sorry,” Tosh broke down crying. He was screaming and crying and begging for me to shoot him.

Choking back pity for Tosh An’gers, I said, “I’ll tell Finn what happened.” If I make it out alive, I thought but that seemed to please Tosh. Tosh said softly, “Thank you, kind sir, and please, tell Finn that I love him,” and I fired Fili Mi at Tosh’s head. I had no clue if I would be able to tell Tosh’s boyfriend what happened. Would I say, Oh, he was in awful shape—awful! So I listened to what he said and shot him dead? Or what? I told myself that I was going to tell Finn that I gave his boyfriend peace. Maybe.

Burying Tosh’s body away from the battlefield, I thought to myself, How many more must die before the war ends? Who will be that last person before the war stops? Who must be that person who surrenders first?

As I listened to the wails of distorted screams, I told myself that I was going to have lucid dreams tonight.