“Sarg’, no! I can talk to her! And even then, hasn’t she been through enough?! The suits raked this place earlier! We were even shooting at f*ckers armed only with improv’d weapons! What makes you think she has anything at all now, much less a goddamn weapon?!” Sergeant Wilson changed personality almost instantly, going from an almost refined man to the sergeant he’s supposed to be. “That, right there, is insubordination, boy. And the middle of bum-f*ck Mexico, far from any commanding officer’s immediate eyes, defending some little dirt covered whore, is a really f*ckin’ dumb time and place to be an insubordinate little sh*t!” Wilson punctuated his outcry with a strike to my stomach with the stock of his rifle.
As I doubled-over into the dirt, I felt the barrel of his rifle stab into the back of my neck before I realized he was behind me. “Now, boy, you are goin’ to watch. You will grow to like this, or you won’t fit in. Don’t you want to fit in, boy?” I swatted the barrel off my neck, and attempted to slug him in the jaw. He caught my punch, and gave me one of his’ own right where his rifle had struck me. He kicked me down, and planted his boot onto my chest. “You gonna behave now, boy? I would hate to kill you, especially here, but I will if you keep makin’ a sh*t outta yer self.”
I couldn’t reply if I wanted to. It hurt to breathe, let alone speak. “James! Restrain Pitbull. He’s gonna watch. From now ‘til finish, he’s gonna get the front row.”
James yanked me up by the front of my shirt, and locked me into a full-nelson, facing me towards Doug and the girl, who had just gotten the green light from Wilson apparently, as he was already slicing through her clothes, stripping her bare. Doug then threw her on the ground, and knelt over her and said, “You speak any english, girl?” She stared back at him, tears streaming down her face, but giving no indication that she understood a word he had said. “Tell you what: You respond to me in english, I will let you go free, no problems. Ya like the sound of that?” She started crying again, before Doug yanked her by her hair and turned her over on the ground. He pushed her face into the dirt in an attempt to silence her screams as he straddled her. “Last chance. English or I start.” He jeered maliciously.
I knew what he was going to do. I closed my eyes hard as I heard the clicking of what I could only guess was his belt coming off.
I woke up, breathing heavy. Feeling nauseous. Before I could even properly sit myself up, I puked over the side of the bed, the smell of that night’s whiskey now mixed in bile nearly made me puke again. I clutched at my stomach, trying to control the cramp that threatened for another upturn of its contents.
That dream. That goddamn dream. I’ve been getting that flashback in dreams ever since that day. It always makes me wonder if it hints that I didn’t kill them all. But I ain’t that superstitious. I’m probably just f*cked in the head from that horrible day, right?
The question came from last night’s entertainment, still undressed and half covered by the sheets of the bed. Her long blonde hair drifted over my shoulder, as she leaned over me, putting a hand on my arm. “I don’t know, did I pay you to ask questions?” I rasped as I swatted her hand away and rolled back over. I didn’t have my eyes open to watch her get out of bed and gather her things, but I figured I had pissed her off. I didn’t care.
I remember hoping we’d get another mission soon. Having something to do at least seemed to soften those dreams. Asside from that, I remember half thinking about cleaning up the mess I’d made before slipping back into sleep.