All for a Reason
by Alexandra Walthes
Violet had done exactly what she was supposed to.
At least according to the expectations of how she’d been raised.
She went to school, worked hard, paid attention, and kept herself healthy so that she could join the war at 18, just like she was meant to.
And it was hard. They were poor, and rations made the scarce food dull and repetitive, but it was all for a reason, a service to her country.
And someday, she’d join the other brave people, like her mom, and fight the good fight.
Because that’s what she was supposed to do.
And she did.
She turned 18 and two days later was getting details about the group she’d be with to train.
Training was harsh. She missed her siblings and her dad. The long grueling days stretched into nights, one after another.
The darkness of the barracks hid many ignored injuries and anxious tears.
But it was all for a reason, a service to her country.
Once training ended, after nearly nine months, she was allowed to see her family. For a few short hours after the ceremony swearing herself and the other trainees in as official soldiers, she was allowed to see them. Audra had gotten so much bigger and had she not known better, she’d have thought Sebastian was a fellow soldier. Her father hugged her, his eyes tired, like they’d been her whole life, though now undercut with something else, something sadder.
Her mother had only given her a stiff nod of approval, not that she’d expected much more, though that did little to lessen the pang in her stomach.
Those few hours spent with them after the ceremony were the first time in months she’d felt warm. Like a human and not a tool.
It was over quickly, and as she watched them leave, watched Audra cry and Sebastian grind his teeth to stop himself from doing so as well, Violet contemplated letting her own tears fall.
She didn’t, of course, she was part of a whole, weakness of one meant a weakness to all.
Tears could be saved for the dark.
It was all for a reason, a service to her country.
War is hell.
She’d heard the phrase before, though only when it was being openly mocked as gutless at best and decried as nearly treasonous at worst. To speak against the war was a crime that only the cowardly or treacherous would commit.
But they were right.
War is hell.
A special, awful, ringing type of hell.
It stuck to your clothes and skin. The smell stayed in your nose and the taste in your mouth for weeks after you left. The sounds war made would never go away, they’d just hibernate until just the wrong thing spurred on their ire-filled return.
She tried to be calm. The fighting wasn’t constant. They would sometimes have days of peace, playing cards, talking about their families back home, some of her fellow company members could even sing, though that only happened in hushed tones on the stormiest of days to not alert anyone to their position.
But Violet never felt safe, not awake, not with her company, not even with a rifle loaded and mounted. There was always a threat. Always something that would spell the end of her life.
She watched her friends die.
Some of them got the mercy of a quick death, no pain, just gone.
Others weren’t lucky in that way.
She tried her best to stay, to make sure they weren’t alone in the last few moments of their lives. She listened to them sob for their parents and pray to any Gods that might be listening. More than once, she’d been the one to report the time of death and final words.
The worst was Winter, one of the singers.
He’d taken multiple hits to his stomach and, with the amount of fire they were under, he would bleed out long before anyone could help him. He’d asked Violet to hold his hand, and as she did, and he lay, slowly bleeding, he sang his last song.
It was an old song. A folk song. A children’s song.
It was one Violet sang for Audra and Sebastian when they were small and had nightmares.
He’d beg Violet to sing it with him, which she did, and she made sure to finish the song when the blood loss finally claimed his breath.
He wasn’t the first, or the last, but Violet had to watch.
Watch his face, the way the color drained as he lost blood. Had to inhale the smell of the blood as it mixed with sweat and dirt, listen to the ragged panicked breathing as he tried to stay alive, the singing, his voice trembling as the song was interspersed with prayers that devolved into begging.
It all came back every time she closed her eyes.
But it was all for a reason, a service to her country.
It had to be.
Three days after Winter died, Violet and five of her company members were hit by a long-range attack from an enemy company.
Only two of them survived.
Violet had no memory of anything after the bomb. She’d gone from burning pain, to darkness, to the confines of a bed, in what felt like only seconds.
She woke up in a hospital bed only able to see out of one eye, and being told she may have to have one of her legs amputated.
Those days in the hospital, staring at the ceiling, in near silence, pain gripping her body every time she shifted, made her wish she’d died during the explosion.
The reactions of everyone around her had only intensified that wish.
After she’d been cleared to leave the hospital, the only people willing to speak to her were her father and Audra. Sebastian had long since graduated from training and been sent off to fight, and her mother refused to even look at her, let alone speak to her.
The days at home were even worse than the hospital.
At least in the hospital, the nurses had been nice and helped her with the things she needed. At home, her choices were to struggle through it on her own or hope that her father would come and check on her in between patients.
The only good part of being home was Audra.
She’d been so distraught when she found out Violet wasn’t coming back home after training ended, she couldn’t imagine how hard the time after Sebastian had left and before she’d returned had to have been.
Something told Violet her mother likely had no sympathy, seeing that Audra had been content to spend all her time in Violet’s room, a place her mother would not ever be.
Audra had taken to sleeping in Violet’s room with her, not that Violet minded. Audra had always been cuddly, from the time she was little, plus it wasn’t every night.
Then they’d gotten notice that Sebastian had been killed in an air ambush along with his entire squadron.
That was the last time her mother spoke to her, informing her of the news and when the funeral would be.
That was also when Audra essentially moved into her room, now afflicted with nightmares that would cause her to wake up sobbing in the night.
Violet tried her best not to let the grief show, though that was incredibly difficult, seeing as there was now so much to grieve.
But it had to all be for a reason, a service to her country.
The doctors had been able to save her leg, partially.
For the rest of her life, she would have to wear a brace, from hip to ankle. The doctor told her physical exercises with a medic who specialized in mobility after injuries would help, but there was essentially zero chance she’d be able to walk without a cane ever again.
She was also told there was no way to fix her eye; either it would heal on its own and she’d regain her sight, or it wouldn’t, and she’d be blind in that eye.
She’d gotten lucky there, and her sight had returned, partially.
For the rest of her life, she’d have to deal with being partially blind, covered in scars, and walking with a cane.
For the rest of her life, she’d have to deal with the looks of disgust from her mother, the pity from her father, and the fear from Audra.
But it was all for a reason, a service to her country.
Right?