Annette, the Veteran

War is over! War is over!
Loud screams piercing the field hospital's streets, while happy, almost unharmed soldiers clapping each other shoulders and shake their hands.
But almost no one gave any attention to the ones, who laid in other tents of field hospital. The one, who had something heavier, than simple bullet wounds or bruised limbs.
The ones, who can't think about anything, except one thing:
"War. Is. Hell."
"Perhaps, this is the Hell."
"Where am i now? What year am i in now?"
But nobody heard their thoughts. Nobody came to them. And around this grotesque picture of injured soldiers, slowly losing it in their dirty linens, young, almost girly looking woman were silent, looking far. Far-far away, maybe even far than the end of the Galaxy.
She can't sleep. In her dreams she always comes back to battlefield, where she running under cover of artillery barage, storming and infiltrating enemy lines. Each scream of enemy, each blow or swing of her knife, each flash of chemical attack makes her jump in bed, covering her eyes from possible damage.
Even now, when war is over, she keep wearing her helmet, waiting for scream about upcoming artillery barrage from the sentries or another call to new storm.
Maybe war is over, but her own war is far from over. And who knows, will it be at least a bit easier than the Hell she came through.