[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Another Call for Moderators Edition

Your name was James, and you were b-r-o-k-e-n. 
 
 Broken, what was that feeling? When you fall from a high place and feel your blood once you hit the ground? 
 
 When you finally find out your friend harboured another person? 
 
 Yeah. 
 
 Now you were at an all boys sleepover, sitting on the ground, about to confess your deepest, darkest secret. 
 
 The boy next to your best friend muttered that he, apparently, had burnt all of his father's cigarettes. Wow, true genius right here, people. Slow clap, anyone? No? 
 
 Then it was your turn. 
 
 `` My darkest secret is... I hung a stuffed toy with a dart and some strings.'' 
 
 Everyone glanced at each other. It was pretty messed up of you, but you were a curious boy back then... 
 
 Then it was your best friend's secret. 
 
 `` My darkest secret... is that I have a soldier inside of me who knows what I do-'' 
 
 But before your friend Greg could continue, Arnold, who was sitting to his right, made an outburst. 
 
 `` That's not your darkest secret! Your darkest secret is that you caught me writing `` Marcus is a f*****'' on his locker!'' Then he covered his mouth. 
 
 Marcus was almost quivering with rage. `` You did WHAT?!'' he roared. 
 
 Then Arnold tackled him down, but Marcus was strong, and he was close to overpowering Arnold, but Arnold whacked him on the head with an alarm clock, taking out Greg in the process. Everyone screamed. 
 
 `` BOTH OF YOU!'' A new voice pierced through the commotion. 
 
 You look at the source of the thick, low, gravely voice, who turned out to be a man, whose muscles nearly ripped his military uniform. He was right next to you. 
 
 He moved his arm to scratch something on his stubble, and you noticed a cloud of smoke stretching from his black boots to Greg's nostrils. Huh. You never knew Greg *smoked. * 
 
 That was when you broke. The soldier turned to you, and you backed away, slowly. 
 
 Then he knelt down on one knee, but you screamed, jumping backwards, and tripped over the windowsill. 
 
 Falling. You were flying, like the birds. You finally found out what it was like to be free. You were oddly calm. 
 
 Then you hit the pavement, and felt your leg explode, misting blood all over your hands. 
 
 The next time you came to, Greg was next to you. 
 
 `` Wait... what? Yo, dude. I never knew your mom put LSD in out food. Or, whatever everyone got high on. What was it, that thing that made us all see that soldier guy?'' 
 
 `` You got high on life.'' was the reply. You promptly fell asleep, there on the pavement, surrounded by everyone. 
 
 The next time when you woke, he was there again. The soldier was looking over your wounds, and Greg was out like a light. It was just Greg, you and the soldier. 
 
 You were a wine glass, dropped again and again, and then crushed. 
 
 The ambulance siren resounded down the eternal suburbia, and the soldier disappeared. 
 
 When you break, it could take minutes, hours, days, even *years* just to piece yourself together.
