A Short story - by: wonderstruckb
What War Spares
Hate Cannot Heal
I had a nightmare. It was a memory. A dark, horrible memory. A haunting image of dust that kills and wails that crush. I was there. A passerby in the midst of war. A cutting board splattered by the blood of meat cut by the butcher.
At the wrong place at the wrong time.
I can still feel Anna’s skinny arms clutch my leg. I can still see her big brown eyes: dotted with dew drops of fear. I can still hear her screaming in agony as a metal object-tinier than the length of her pinky finger- ended her life. I remember my little sister no longer clinging to me. I remember ballistically wailing. I remember picking the limp body up and rocking it: back and forth and back and forth. I remember stroking its silky black hair. I remember being dragged away from the body. I remember clawing at the person making me leave my sister all alone, to die. I remember being told that everyone around me was already dead. I remember being rescued unwillingly. I remember cutting myself with a scalpel in the hospital. I remember being strapped down. I remember getting poked with a sharp needle. I remember falling into an uneasy blackness: as I was haunted in a coma that I couldn’t awake from. I remember waking up bawling. I remember throwing up bile in the bathroom. I remember plunging my head in the toilet, willing myself to die. I remember choking. I remember someone beating my chest. I remember spitting up water into their face. I remember a sleepless night. I remember a woman driving me in her car. I remember being dropped off at a house. I remember hugging my grandma. I remember eating cookies. I remember telling myself that Anna should be eating these cookies. I remember running out of a door. I remember beating a girl up: a little girl who looked like my sister. I remember pulling at her silky black hair, boxing her big brown eyes. I remember her screaming. I remember being handcuffed. I remember fighting a large man. I remember the sting of a taser. I remember getting my picture taken in oversized orange clothes. I remember banging my head against cylindrical metal bars. I remember being sedated. I remember waking up to straps holding me against an uncomfortable bed. I remember crying, crying, crying. I remember leaving the locked room. I remember seeing my grandma: a rain of tears plundering her folded cheeks. I remember a drive: a long, long drive. I remember walking in a long hallway. I remember stares of older boys. I remember the whispers of younger girls. I remember bumping into a small kid. I remember cussing him out to move. I remember being scolded by an adult. I remember cussing out the adult too. I remember running through the emergency exit to outside. I remember climbing a tall tree. I remember falling. I remember a darkness. I remember a silent world. I remember seeing my little sister Anna. I remember reaching out to her. I remember her fading away. I remember nothing but what I knew before. I remember a nightmare: a dark, horrible nightmare. I remember the haunting image of dust that kills and wails that crush. I remember being at the wrong place the wrong time.
I remember a war. I remember a solemn hatred for war. I remember that hatred doesn’t solve anything in war.
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