3. Chapter Two-Erica
Suddenly, I don't want to be a soldier anymore, I want to go back to Germany and watch Gertrude die from her bedside. Even the thought of starving to death is seeming like the much more honorable option right now. But the constant cramps in my stomach tell me otherwise. I raise my gun and follow the others onto the battlefield. Buildings explode on either side. The sound of screams fills my ears. The gun has begun to feel comfortable in my arms, and every bullet hits its target. It feels as if I am simply in a dream, lost in a world of pure imagination.
But this is no dream. This is war.
The adrenalin pumping through my veins pushes me forward, and all the noise around me blends into one, a voice screaming, begging me not to pull the trigger. But I pull it anyway, and miss, because at the very last moment my eyes rest upon the soldier screaming my name.
It's the boy from my dreams. The boy I left behind twenty years ago. The boy smiling in the photo lying in my pocket. The boy named Peter Frey, my only brother.
That's when I wake up from whatever dream I was lost in. I let out a gasp and stare into his eyes for the first time. My hands shake so much the gun slips from my fingers, the rest of the world seems to have disappeared. A grin forces its way to my lips and I am about to fling myself into his arms, when suddenly I realize something I should have seen before. I have changed to the point where I can't recognize my face in the mirror, he has no idea who I am.
I mumble the words Peter Frey just as he raises his gun and fires. But just before I hit the ground I see it, a spark of recognition.
And then the darkness swallows me whole.
They always told me dying wouldn't hurt. But I have to be dying, and it hurts in every single way. There is only one thought going through my brain. i don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to... and then everything goes black.