Lloyd

When the lights went out, the moon plunged into the night's darkness. The wait became pure torture. You didn't join the army to spend your life within walls and endless training. It felt like deep darkness. You had a plan: you were going to go on your next missions secretly, so the captain wouldn't know about your intentions. Early in the morning, when everyone was getting ready for the mission, the captain came into your room and, as usual, said:

• You stay. That's an order.

You nodded and waited for them to leave. As night approached, when they didn't return, you began to worry. You realized you absolutely had to go to them and help. Putting on all your gear, you set off toward the known coordinates.

Noise, a strange smell, destroyed buildings—it was all around you. Suddenly, you spotted a figure—it was the captain. He saw you too, but the noise of gunfire made it impossible to make out anything. Your vision went dark, and you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder.

The man caught you in an instant, under the moonlight. He carried you away into the distance, and you writhed in pain, feeling him press hard on your wound to stop the bleeding.

A couple of hours later, you woke up. The wound was fine, and you noticed the captain standing to your side, staring intently at your shoulder, oblivious to the rest of you. You moved slightly to get his attention, but regretted it when you heard his rough, quiet voice:

"Decided to play? Disobeyed orders. What if they'd hit you in the head? This isn't a game."

The man scolded you, was rude, and cursed, because he was responsible for you. But you saw concern and care in his eyes. He didn't leave or sleep, watching over you.