The hunger, the fear, and the emptiness almost broke me. When I’d finally had enough, I decided to take the advice of a man who ran a halfway house down on the eastside. He was more decent than most and seemed to really care about the kids who came to him over and over. He told me that since I had managed to stay out of jail, there was a good chance I could join the military.
Despite how much I loathed my grandfather, I decided it was something I needed to do. Maybe it was to prove the old man wrong, show him I could face adversity and thrive. It was probably the same reason my father joined all those years ago, just to prove that bastard wrong. Regardless of the reason, I needed the stability the military could give me. I craved it, and being in the service was one of the best things I’d ever done. My troop became my family. We trained together… fought together. We became stronger, more disciplined together. It was the first time I had someone watching my back, caring whether I lived or died, and I was actually happy there. I figured I’d spend my life serving my country, but just when things were going well, everything fell apart. My platoon was transporting supplies to one of the neighboring villages when the lead carrier ran over a land mine. Soon after, the second carrier was ambushed, leaving most of my troop either dead or dismembered. It was a sight that will be forever burned into my memory. Seeing my brothers either dead or missing limbs broke something inside of me. The old hardness and coldness returned. Whatever weakness or compassion was left in me was wiped out that day. When I left the service, I was capable of doing unthinkable things, and I could do them without a touch of remorse.
They say your past defines you. I’d say they are right.
“Five more minutes, and then it’s time to finish up your homework and have dinner,” I warned Wyatt. He looked so content, sitting at the end of the sofa with his little legs tucked underneath him. His fingers were rapidly tapping the screen as he worked diligently to create a new world on his video game. The things he could create on that little device always amazed me.
“But I’m just about to slay the dragon,” he whined, never looking up from his game. His little nose crinkled into a pout at the thought of having to stop.
“Don’t even start, mister. You know the rule.” He’d been playing since we got home from school, and he’d keep playing all night if I let him.
“Okay. Five more minutes,” he answered in defeat. His shaggy, brown hair dangled in front of his eyes, making me wonder how he could even see to play his game.
“Dude. I think it’s time for a haircut.”
He quickly ran his fingers through his bangs, brushing them to the side, and said, “No way! This is how it’s supposed to look.” He gave me a quick glare, his dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration before he looked back down at his game. Seeing him sitting there, I couldn’t help but smile. He looked like your average eight-year-old boy with his wrinkled t-shirt and jeans, but to me, he was anything but average. I could see that Wyatt was an exceptional child, always marveling at all the wonders of the world. Every day, he’d share something new he had learned, eagerly telling me every single detail of what he’d discovered. I loved hearing the excitement in his voice when he spoke, flicking his wrists at his sides as he focused on what he was saying. I had no problem admitting that my entire world was wrapped up in that little boy and there was nothing better than seeing him happy.
“How about fish sticks for dinner?” I offered.
“Nah. I want chicken nuggets.”
“Wyatt, you had those last night. You’re going to turn into a chicken nugget one of these days,” I laughed.
“That’s physically impossible, Mom. Chickens are birds. People can’t turn into birds,” he fussed, shaking his head.
My child, always so literal. I smiled and said, “I know, buddy. I was just teasing. Are you set on chicken nuggets?”