Something Bad (open)

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

The fabric of the pillowcase was damp, a slight bloodstain was lying fresh on the corner of the top layer of bedding, and a knife lay on the cold floor reddened. The soldier was face down on the cot as if he had been shot in the back of the head while he stood at the foot of the bed. The breathing that was coming out of the desperate man was in a staggering pulse. The space underneath his head was drenched with tears. His hair was a chaotic mess as was his uniform that was still soggy from a river’s swim. The left wrist had a slit going across it, crimson coloring slowly dripping out of the self-inflicted wound.

The man that was laid in this position, however terrible it may seem, was Corporal Owen Pearson. After getting back from the medical area where he dropped David off for care, he came to the familiar bed and decided to retry his childhood dream of a quick ending. He laid down on the bed and looked out the nearby window thinking of how the one sergeant that he had watched die in battle would never get to go home to see those that were precious to him. He continued to think of the look on a widow’s face upon finding out the fate of the one that felt he was doing what was good for his country. He imagined the two soldiers coming to the door and handing the dog tags to the woman who answered the door. The woman would take the tags in her hand as she realized what had happened. In great pain, she would lurch her body down to the ground the tags slipping from her weakened grasp and hitting the surface of the porch.

Owen had decided to lie down upon the warm sheets. He continued to think of the soldier who would never make it home, the thoughts were rushing to him now that he was safe from the terrible force that had caused it and free from the zone that he was in while they had retreated from the terrible battle. A drop of water came from the outer corner of his eye, went across the side of his face, and stained the light colored pillowcase. Minutes later, he found himself in that terrible condition.

His yell of pain still echoed around the empty room, a stupid yell, as he didn’t want anyone to know what he had done. The deed was done; there was no way to take it back. The blood was coming out of his wrist and off the left side of the cot. Footsteps began their ascent up the stairs, their owner would find Owen in this terrible position. Although the door handle had turned and whom ever it was would find this situation momentarily, Owen smiled as he remembered a poem that Prudence had sent him.

People come and people go,

but the world will spin so.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson had finished up his paperwork pertaining to the horrible battle that maimed one of his top NCOs and felt he needed to visit those that returned. He was their commander, and in a sense, a temporary father to them. They had caught a horrible bit of luck and he knew that it would not be taken very well at all. He closed up his briefcase and left it by his desk and walked out. His office door was locked behind him and as he stepped out the habit "Giles." came from his lips, but this time it was not in the same fashion. "Walk with me." he stated as he looked his HQ Sergeant in the eyes. Dean's eyes met his and he knew that they were in for a emotional night. Giles nodded and took his place beside his commander down the hall.

Just across the small street from the HQ building was the main barracks, the two infantry companies, Bravo and Echo, were housed there. Patterson would stop off to see the better of the men before spending the night at the hospital with his Staff Sergeant, David Bevan. They pushed open the door and the sergeant at the desk stood abruptly, but before he could salute Henry just placed his hand out and slowly lowered it, shaking his head a bit. Patterson was a "By the Books" man to a T, they all knew it was one of those bad times when he made such a motion. They exited the lobby area to the left and headed up the stairs. From the lobby, the right staircase went to Echo Company, the left to Bravo Company and they had both been hit. There was a Corporal that might have earned himself a nice medal for his actions in Africa, Patterson had just finished the paperwork and would be submitting it in the morning, but he knew the medal was nothing, never was to the men that earned them, just some decoration was all.

As Giles and the Captain neared the top of the stairs a small scream was heard through the hall. As Patterson opened the door everyone had come peering out of their rooms, a quick glare and they returned. Giles feared the worst and bolted toward the Corporal's door, twisting it slowly in case he had gone off the deep end and was about to shoot the place to high heaven. With a small push, part of the fear was realized. Patterson seeing the look on his Sergeant's face had a sinking feeling and pushed his way in, but not panicking. The tears and the blood said it all "Call 'em!" Patterson blurted out as he passed by Giles. "MEDIC!!" Giles yelled down the hallway.

Patterson hoped it was Branigan that showed up to help, but at this point whoever could get there the fastest was a blessing. He rushed over to the Corporal's bedside, tossing his hat to the corner, yanking his jacket off his shoulders and tearing down the length of the sleeve, he could get a new one tomorrow, a new Corporal was going to take longer. He wrapped it around what he thought was the wound as best he could, the blood was pouring at such a rate that when he wiped it away, it recovered his forearm almost instantly. He pulled it tight as he placed a hard knot in the bandage, directly over the wound to add more pressure. "Giles, get th-!" Patterson couldn't finish, for as he looked up, his long time friend, Dean Giles, had already retrieved the blade, wiped it clean and tucked it away, he was pulling another blanket from the closet for warmth as it would not be long before the kid slipped into shock.

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

It has been said that cutting your own self can provide a release-a break away from society-for such a brief moment. There has been speculation on to the thoughts of the suicidal; they have said that it is pointless to subject your body for any reason. Many have considered these acts terrible, as if the people were evil spirits who were to be sent off to the jails to rot away. How have the desperate responded?

“It feels better”

Although it may sound like an unintelligent thought to most people, to Owen it finally made sense in this moment. Those that are suffering feel that the pain is an escape from their normal life. It was a chance for release, for but a few short moments, from the suffering of the world. The act had the same logic as a snakebite, a cure was made from the cause.

The door was opening quickly, uncared about by Owen. Patterson walked through the open portal, a man that he had only seen but never actually talked to as he was very busy being the brigade commander. Quickly, the call of “Medic!!” went down the hall, causing a great uproar in the barracks. A medic would show up soon, finding Owen in this terrible position, vulnerable as can be.

As Owen lied on the bed, still face down, Patterson came over swiftly and sat on the bed. A hat flew through the still air and into the corner of the still almost empty space. A jacket came off the captain’s shoulders and was ripped the length of the sleeve. The ripped sleeve was wrapped around Owen’s wrist and tied tightly with a strong knot to provide pressure to the cut area of Owen’s wrist, a basic medical procedure that was known by most soldiers.

With his right hand, Owen reached down to the cold floor and felt around for the dagger, but to no avail. He picked his hand up and used it to help him turn over so that he could see what was going on better. Patterson was leaning over him with a straight face, frozen by the serious moment. Another man was in the room that Owen couldn’t recognize, this person just looked like someone helping out Patterson for the moment. The second man pulled a blanket over Owen, another fairly basic medical routine, this time to prevent shock that would cause Owen to become unconscious.

He looked up at the sergeant that was hovering over him. The man was very fit from many years of the military, but beginning to look a little less defined from the paperwork that was needing to be done lately. A smart and fast-thinker, was what Owen had been told, it was surprising that he was on the frontlines. He was wearing the regular uniform, minus the jacket that was now party tied around Owen’s wrist. Although it seemed very out of place, Owen gained a slight smirk on his face as he said, “If you’re treating for shock, you’re supposed to talk to the person.”

[MAJ Patterson]

As the blanket went swooping over Patterson's head, he was somewhat relieved that the kid had enough sense left to roll over, and even to speak. Patterson's grimace from when the Corporal had tried to go for the blade once more had faded and he looked the kid straight in the eyes. "Least you aren't gone yet, not saying you will mind you. And you are correct, one of the steps of treating for shock is to hold a conversation with the individual." Patterson almost smiled as he rose to his feet and looked over to his HQ Sergeant "That is correct isn't it Sergeant?" Giles nodded to the Captain's remark. But then the Sergeant's head sank down a bit. "Then you also know that-" again Patterson's speak was halted by his Sergeant, the man did seem to know him all to well. The Sergeant was already nodding slowly, his head slumping more so.

"You see kid, Sergeant Giles here already knows what I'm gonna say, he could probably mouth it to you from behind my back as it rolls off of my tongue." inevitably Giles was more than likely nodding at the Corporal, but he wouldn't dare mouth the Captain's words, even if he did know them that well. "To the best of my knowledge you are new to the unit...Pearson, is it?" he said in a rhetorical manner as he squinted a bit to read the kid's name. "Funny I was just going over your file...your file that will soon be mailed off." Patterson was about to drop the bomb, but it would at least keep the kid in reality a bit while the medic was en route.

"Yes I said mailed off. It will be mailed to another unit. You aren't staying here in mine." Patterson's lips had grown tight when he wasn't moving them, his gaze a bit broadened. "You are what we call now a, uh, what is the term I'm looking for Sergeant?" Patterson turned a bit as he directed the question to Giles.

"Suicide case sir, we can no longer call them nut jobs...sir."

Patterson nodded in an overly exaggerated fashion. "That's right! You are a suicide case kid. As soon as they have stabilized you in the unit's hospital, you are GONE!" Patterson wiped his mouth a bit as a little spit flew and a bit dangled. He was not about to risk more lives of his men with the idea that this would be tolerated. Now granted Patterson had just finished reading the report about the events that happened in Africa but in Patterson's eyes, there was no excuse for being a coward.

"More than likely you will get what the Army deems 'necessary attention' so that they can't be sued in any way when they release you, but beyond that, your military days are numbered and more than likely you will be stateside with one hell of a bad record within a month." Patterson knew of no way the kid was staying after this. The Army frowned upon such things with great disdain, and as most everyone knew, if you were anymore by the book than Patterson, you were on the bookshelf with them.

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

OOC: Sorry that this took so long, you made it hard to continue a story. I hope you're okay with this.

Owen lurched forward from his bed hitting the underside of the upper bunk with great force exerted from both his head and the stubborn metal bar. “Crap”, came out under his breath in a sound as if he was whispering to a friend late at night. Snickering came from across the room, a few soldiers who just could not get to sleep. Bringing his head down from the vibrating bar he held his hands up to his forehead feeling the spot that just hit the solid surface in a critical fashion.

Observantly, he looked down at his left wrist while still supporting his head with his right hand. What he noticed was that there was no scarlet mark crossing it at the wrist, besides being pale white in fright the arm was completely unscathed. He brought his right arm down and noticed that it was virtually a mirror image of the left arm; again, there was no mark. How could this be? The thoughts spun around in his head about what had happened.

Remembering the face, he looked around himself uncomfortably in search of the Captain that he remembered seeing hovering over his mattress. As his search turned up blank, the next idea was evidence. He thought of the crimson stripe that had shot across the sheets. Again, there was nothing there certifying the situation he was sure had happened. Owen fell back onto the pillow with his hands layering over his face as he thought about the terrifying moment that was now ringing completely clear throughout his thoughts.

He thought of one thing that would assure to him that he had not just made up that horrible time. The sheets were thrown off and Owen’s bare feet touched against the cold floor. The light that came through the windows in the otherwise dark room brightened up the footlocker that lay at the base of Owen’s bunk, making it pleasant when he had to see the item that he was looking for in the small crate. After much searching, a light reflected into Owen’s eyes showing him the presence of the object. He stood for a moment as he was completely taken aback by the knife that he saw to be in his footlocker. His grip fell onto the toiletry bag that lay on the top of his now mixed up things. He closed the box and headed down to the washroom more of an excuse for getting up than anything else.

After pushing the door open, he felt around on the wall for the light switch. After the great struggle to find that and turn it on, Owen walked into the room with the bag gripped in his right hand. He walked straight to the sinks that were spread out along one side of the room. Choosing the one on the rightmost side of the row, he set the bag next to the faucet as he looked at the mirror on the wall above it seeing his own pale face staring back at him. He turned the faucet on and splashed the cold water that came out onto his face, trying to restore some sort of consciousness to his startled features. With eyes closed to the water, he grabbed the washcloth from the bag and dried off his face as the door to the room creaked open.

[MAJ Patterson]

OOC: down right brilliant!

Patterson had had a rather restless night as his men had returned from Africa battered and bruised, one of them never to return. He had already pulled his uniform on and decided that there was a pretty good chance that he might not be the only one awake. He stood up and took a swallow of water from his canteen, sloshed it around a bit and gulped it down, with a relieved "Ahhhh." he capped it off and headed out of his cozy room, down the stairs and out into the parking area. The cold air woke him even more and he looked about the company area, no one was around and it was eerily silent. He took in the atmosphere of the place and watched his breath drift on by as he walked across the field to the infantry barracks.

"Wonder if he is up as well?" he mumbled to himself. The Captain was not one for emotions but for some odd reason he had the notion to go and check on the men that had returned from the upset. He pushed open the front doors to the lobby and yawned a bit as he motioned for the desk Sergeant to take his seat and trotted up the stairs.

Patterson walked about the bay area and noticed that indeed there was an empty bunk and it was the bunk belonging to Pearson. He was rather new to the unit but Patterson had a feeling that Owen was capable of greatness. He circled back around once more to notice a light on just down the hall a bit out of the corner of his eye. He walked on over and slowly pushed the door open to reveal a tired looking Corporal trying to get his wits about him still, he must have just woken up.

"Oddly enough I had a feeling that I was not the only one awake." Patterson stated as he walked on over to the adjacent sink and supported the majority of his weight on his arms as he leaned across it to stare himself in the mirror. He lowered his head with a slight shake and looked over to Pearson. "That was a pretty rough one to cut your teeth on huh?" it was more rhetorical than anything else but he left it open for discussion and didn't want to hit any sensitive areas, as he had rounded the corner at the top of the stairs he remembered how tired he really was and that he had a meeting in the morning, but he could push it back if need be, the lull in new recruits was almost frightening and he didn't want to have to send another out the door.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post

The following CP has been issued:

Patterson - 4CP

Pearson - 4CP

-JT