Page 7 of Saved By the Soldier

"I'd never throw anyone out in this. I'm not sure we’ll go upwards tomorrow but look we can try and see how far we get."

"I really appreciate it. Now you know about my photographic history, tell me where you were deployed and are you still active?"

"I'm not active, I've been medically discharged."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She takes a sip of her wine, and I know she wants to ask more.

"I'm okay with it. We were in Afghanistan fighting the Taliban and it was horrific. They really don't care that their women and children are killed in the fighting. We didn't want to kill civilians, but sometimes we were given the wrong intel. Ididn't go into the military to kill women and children and that weighed heavily on me. I know that some of them were in the Taliban. You’d see kids of like six or seven years of age, walking around with rifles and it was really hard to see. They were born into war, and they were robbed of their childhoods. I think of them when I'm at home with my parents and it makes me even more grateful."

"I'm sorry that you had to witness that. It must’ve been terrible."

"It was and it fucked with my brain. I still have nightmares of killing kids, even though I knew there was a chance they’d have killed me without even thinking about it."

She looks at me for a while. Then she reaches down and touches my hand. "Do you think you’re ever going to be able to sleep without nightmares?"

"I don't know. Some nights I don't have them, but that's because I don't sleep for long, but if I was having a full night’s sleep then I always have a nightmare."

She squeezes my hand. "I have nightmares too. I was always left to fend for myself. I think I was about eight. Well, that's the first memory I have of being home alone. I woke up and my parents were gone. I ran around the house shouting for them. It felt like a full week before they showed up, but it was only two hours apparently."

She looks out of the window, deep in thought. "Soon they were leaving me all day. I had to make food, eat by myself. I went to school, came home and was on my own. They were working and would come home and expect me to have made food for them all. I didn't know how to cook, and I'd get in trouble. This went on for years until they went on holiday and left me at home on my own for a week. I was three days into the week when I was trying to boil an egg for breakfast. I turned the gas on and there was a knock at the door. I went to see whoit was, and it was the postman looking for my mom. I told him she wasn't there, and he asked when she’d be back. I said in four days. He asked who was looking after me. I told him I was. I closed the door, but he tried to get me to open it. When I did, he told me he was calling the police because they needed to come and make sure I was okay. He pushed his way inside and when he looked around, he looked at me and cried. "You've been living like this for a while, kid," he said. I told him I had. What I didn't know was that he was a smoker. So, he pulled out his cigarettes.

"Kid, let’s get you outside and we can call the police. They’ll look after you. He pulled out his lighter and as soon as he pushed it to light it there was an enormous explosion. The windows were blown out. The walls had a hole in them. We were both thrown away from the explosion. I landed in the sitting room by the window. I could see the house was on fire. When I finally managed to get up, I ran outside to look for the postman. He had been thrown out of the door, but he landed funny. I went up to him and he looked at me. He told me that I was on fire. I didn't know why it didn't hurt, but I found out later it was because of an adrenaline spike. We were both injured and had burns. I thought I'd never see him again, but when I woke up in the hospital he and his wife were there holding my hands. I looked at them both and they told me that they had arranged it with CPS that they wanted to foster me and eventually adopt me. It's because of them I've been able to do everything that I did. I got a full ride scholarship to college and then set up my freelancing business. Unfortunately, they both died a few years ago in a car crash. But I owe them everything."

"That is so sad, Emma. You managed on your own when most of us would’ve just laid there."

"It was do something or die. I wasn't ready to die at that time in my life."

"I'm sorry they treated you like that." It's so sad and makes my life seem so privileged. "We are a pair aren't we. Both of us suffer nightmares when we should be sleeping peacefully."

"Yeah, so true. I'm getting tired, do you have anywhere I can sleep. I have a blow-up mattress in my bag, I can sleep on the floor here." She points to the floor by the wood burner.

"No, you can take the room, and I'll sleep on the floor. I'm used to sleeping wherever I can."

"Absolutely, not. I crashed your cabin, so you shouldn't have to sleep out here. Please let me do this."

"Okay, but I want it known that if we’re still here tomorrow night, then you're sleeping on the bed."

"Deal." She stands and goes to her bag to get the mattress. After blowing it up, she grabs a pillow from the chair and her sleeping bag and climbs inside.

"See you in the morning."

I tidy our glasses away and then go into the bedroom. I hate the thought of her sleeping out there, but it's what she insisted on. Climbing into bed, I lay there with my hands under my head and stare at the ceiling. I wonder if I’m even going to get some sleep tonight or not. But I'm tired. It's been really nice sharing my space with someone else.

5

EMMA

"No, no, no.”

The feeling of the flames on my back is horrendous. The adrenaline has gone and it's replaced with sheer pain. I know I have to find the postman. He was trying to help me and then everything exploded. Standing, I stumble over to the door, and I can't see if he made it out of the house or not. Fear is gripping me tight. What if he's dead? He was trying to help me? How can I ever cope with his death? I look outside and see him on the step leading to the house.

"Sir, sir," I say as I run toward him. He opens his eyes and grabs hold of me. His eyes open.

“Your shirt is on fire. We need to take it off now or it's going to get a lot worse for you." He sits up and takes my shirt off and the pain is like nothing I've ever felt or want to feel in the future. I scream. I scream so loudly. Once the shirt is off, the postman pulls me into him again and hugs me.

"It's going to be okay. What's your name?"

"My name's Emma." He smiles at me. And I know everything is going to be okay. He takes out his cell and calls 911. He says he needs a fire truck and an ambulance and the police. Wow, are all those going to be showing up at my house right now?