[ IP ] Beautiful escape [ ex-post from /r/MorbidlyBeautiful/ ]

I've seen her in my dreams, smiling. Always smiling, no one smiles anymore but she's always smiling just like she always was. `` Come home,'' she says, `` come home'' and it's more appealing every time. 
 
 Three months ago the war started; three months ago the war ended. A bomb tossed from some nation towards another, it did n't matter by whom, nor towards what. A bomb was tossed and so was another and so was another and so was another and so was a world lost. I was stationed at a military base somewhere a few miles from her and yet a few miles proved a bigger barrier than a few thousand could ever be. Her town was fried alongside her while I clawed at the door of a steel bunker while friends and acquaintances tried to hold me back. 
 
 `` You ca n't help her now!'' they cried, `` you're going to get yourself killed too, is that what you want?'' 
 
 It was what I wanted. 
 
 We walk now. Towards somewhere perhaps, certainly away from somewhere. We walk away from the source of my memories and yet they grow stronger every step. `` Come home'' rings through my head in and out of sleep now. 
 
 `` Wake up, soldiers,'' commanded a man who had once been an officer, but who now only called himself one, `` back on your feet.'' 
 
 And so we walk. `` Faster'' he commands, or something along those lines. Why does he rush, I wonder, we've got all the time in the world. 
 
 `` Faster'' he yells, more aggressively this time. 
 
 `` Why?!'' asks a friend, probably. 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' he asks, spitting in the friend's face. 
 
 `` WHY?'' he asks, louder, `` WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOING? ARE YOU LATE TO A MEETING YOU HAVE N'T TOLD US ABOUT? GOT A DATE?'' 
 
 The officer glances into the distance, `` we're heading towards the east coast. There's a battle out there somewhere and I'll be damned if I'm not in the front lines.'' 
 
 The friend looks at the officer with disgust, `` there are no battles, you crazy fuck,'' he slants his eyes and takes a healthy gulp out of his canteen, `` there is no war, there's nothing left.'' The friend glances towards the ruins of what was once a major urban area. 
 
 I look too, and, if only for a moment, I see her eyes plastered onto a scarred billboard right next to the words `` home.'' 
 
 The officer looks at the friend, `` do you know what we fight for-'' he starts, his last word meeting the noise of a bullet leaving the chamber of a gun. My gun. 
 
 My friend looks at me with knowing eyes. Not one who once fought for this man under their own free will fights for him now. And he fades like the rest of the world. 
 
 `` Where to?'' my friend asks. 
 
 `` Home,'' I say. 
 
 I look at the chamber of my pistol and I swear I see her eyes. Her voice cries `` come home'' alongside the sound of a bullet leaving its home. 
 *** 
 EDIT: A few words 
 
 I'd appreciate any and all feedback on this story or my writing in general.
