War Inside and Out
733 Words
The days blurred into each other. Next thing me and Tay Tay knew, we weren’t just training anymore—we were at war.
Gunfire cracked through the air, kids screaming as their parents were dragged into the chaos. Orders shouted, boots pounding the dirt, smoke rising like the sky itself was on fire.
And then it hit me. The sounds—the screams—it all snapped me back.
Back to the haunted house.
Back to blood on my hands.
Back to that boy clinging to Tay Tay while I froze up, useless.
I froze again. Mid-war. My rifle was heavy in my hands, but my arms locked. My chest caved in as images flashed—those hooks, the slit throat, the whispers in the walls. I couldn’t breathe.
“Twin!” Tay Tay’s voice cut through, sharp and urgent. His hand grabbed my shoulder, shaking me back into the moment. “Don’t do this now. Focus!”
The world rushed back in—explosions, shouting, people crying for mercy. But the haunted house never left. It lived in me, twisting every shadow into something darker.
War wasn’t just war. It was that nightmare on repeat.
I recovered mid-war, shaking off the flashbacks long enough to fight beside Tay Tay until the dust settled and the gunfire stopped. We won—but the victory didn’t feel like it. War never really did.
Back at base, I barely had time to catch my breath before they handed me a bundle of letters. V’s handwriting jumped out at me, the curves of her pen pulling me straight out of hell and back into her arms—if only in my head.
I sat on my bunk and read them one by one. Her words carried me home—telling me about her days, about how she still waited, about how much she missed me.
Then I got to the last one.
“Ty… I didn’t know how to tell you this, but I had to leave my place. One of my exes found out about us—about you—and caused a scene. I didn’t want you blaming yourself, but I know you probably will. Please don’t. I’m okay. I’ve got a new spot, I’m working, and I’ll keep writing. You’re the only one I’m waiting for.”
The words hit harder than any bullet. My chest tightened, guilt spreading like poison. She was out there because of me—because of us.
Tay Tay glanced up from across the room, his rifle half-disassembled in his lap. “Twin, are you good?”
I stared down at the letter, my hands trembling. “She had to leave. Because of me.”
He shook his head firmly. “Nah. Because of some clown who doesn’t know how to let go. Don’t put that on you. She’s still riding for you, right? Then you fight harder, twin. You make sure you come back for her.”
I folded the letter carefully, like it was the most fragile thing in the world, and tucked it close to my chest. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I will.”
Even though I was gone for over a year, I kept writing to V. Letters poured out of me day after day, week after week, longer and more often than I expected. I wrote about everything and she shared—her days, her thoughts, her little victories—and made sure she knew I was still there, still waiting for the day I could come back.
Her replies were my lifeline. Each one reminded me that distance didn’t break what we had. Reading them, I could almost hear her voice, feel her presence. It made the time apart bearable—and gave me something to fight for. She recently stopped writing to me, but I took it as she got busy, and I still wrote to her to keep what we had alive.
Days before I had to leave, I grabbed my pen and paper and started a new letter, my hand trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement.
“V,
I’m coming home. Two days. Just two more days, and I’ll be there. I can’t wait to see you, to finally close the distance we’ve been fighting for all this time. Keep a window open for me… I’ll be there before you know it.
—Ty”
- Writer
