Shell shock

Chapter 5 familiar face

I finish my duties with a phantom smirk. I admire the weaponry I have constructed and almost admire the art of warfare, painting a canvas of the splatter of war in my mind until I realise the damage people like I have caused myself and those around me. I think back to Anthony. Thomas is right, he would be disappointed. But I need the money. Should I really allow the prospect of capital to protrude my preset moral code? I think about my actions, the war and the damage it has put onto me. But before I come to a conclusion Arthur speaks to me.
"Shifts over Will, come on we are going to celebrate your success?" He states in a questioning tone
"Yes, I'll come now." I say whilst I leave with him.
As we approach the bar my stomach sinks. I've never socialised like this since school. I've aged too rapidly to even know how to talk to others around me. I can just about talk to Arthur, not to mention I'll have Thomas judging me.
"That hand healed nicely, I couldn't help but notice it was off all day until now." Thomas breaks my thought.
"Yes I erm- I don't wear it whilst working. It's difficult to move." I responded nervously.
"I see, keep it off then." He commands me
"You're not my Sargent anymore Tom." I say standing my ground.
"And you weren't my soldier after the bayonet chatte." He says condescendingly.
I acknowledge his point and walk to the bar.
"Just a glass of whiskey please sir." I say looking down.
I hear a chuckle, "sorry do I look like a sir to you William?" A female voice asked me.
I look up to see a vaguely familiar female face.
"Oh Christ, I am so sorry." I say panicking.
She pours my drink and again asks, "ok but do i actually look like a man William?"
"No but how do you know my name?" I ask her.
"It's me, Maria," she says, "we used to be so close before you got taken away by king George. Do you actually not remember me?"
"Ohh, Maria, I am so sorry." I chuckle, "it's been so, so long."
"It really has, where are you staying?" She asks whilst sliding my drink.
"Oh, yeno. With my sister and her husband." I replied
"Oh so your old house?" She again asks.
"Yeh."
"I'll come by sometime." She walks away and shouts me a glance of certainty.
I get up and am about to leave until I am stoped by Arthur for a brief moment.
"Are you leaving already?" He asked me.
At this point I was getting rather agitated with all the questions. So I replied with.
"Yes I am, I'm just not a social creature."
I try to get past him before he says.
"Come on Will it's about you, not me, not him," he says pointing at a random employee. "It's about you."
"Arthur, I am grateful, but I must leave." I say whilst I slide past and exit the pub.
As I walk through the deserted streets home. I hear the banging of shutters and wind brush past my ears. I walk past quint houses and colossal houses of god. I admire the art littered throughout the street and marvel at my city. I had never walked at night before. The darkness wrapped everything in a deep silk sheet, that turned the city I truly despised into something I was almost proud of.

Before my father passed, he wrote to me, he said he was proud I did my masculine duty. He also said he wouldn't live to see my come home, at the time I didn't think I would either, but that I should be as proud as he is. I'm still not proud of the war or any involvement in it. But I am proud of myself for making a dead man smile.

So I decided to take a scenic route to get home quicker. Little did I know that this would be a poor decision. As I walk down a deserted alleyway, silence clogs my ears. The darkness i previously idolised had now become a phantoms shadow that I must defend myself from. I try to walk out of the ally as fast as I could until, I hear footsteps rapidly approach from behind. A feeling of discomfort shot half way up my spine.This sent my body into desertion mode and I began to pick up haste as well. I could see lamp light glaring into the end of the ally, beckoning to reach it. I almost force my body to move quicker, until I hear the familiar sound of a French accent and I feel a blunt metallic object strike my face. Almost like he's telling me it's not my time yet.