Jon Church swung the door open to his home for the first time in a year and a half. He'd seen so much death, so much suffering, it didn't seem real. He had made it. Walking through that threshold once more, seeing his wife look up from the cooking spit, seeing the tears well in her eyes.
It was all very dreamlike. He seemed to float over to her, and she to him. They embraced, and kissed for what seemed like an hour, crying into the other's hair. The night was full of passion and careless abandon.
In the morning, he held his daughter for the first time. She was bigger, and learning to talk. She was still so fragile. Church felt that he would break her if he hugged her too hard. It was a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of limitless love and protection.
As the weeks grew into months, however, Church noticed that he was behaving unusually. Some nights, he would wake up in a cold sweat, clutching his chest, and next to a wide-eyed Iseult and screaming infant, out of breath. When he slept, he felt as though he was back in Tirranwn. It got so unbearable that he resorting to sleeping on the floor, so as not to fall into deep enough sleep to dream.
Once, Iseult cut her hand while chopping onions for the stew. As Church bandaged her, the smell of blood send his pulse running wild, and he nearly fainted. Iseult began to notice the changes as well.
In time, Church found himself doing things he never thought he would do. He would yell, break things, drink until he passed out. One morning, he woke up and..
Site 17,
Hallowlands
Church's eyes opened lazily to a burning horizon. His hands were covered in blood and specks of dirt.
Right
, he remembered.
Crawling out of the rubble.
04-Jun-2015 21:18:59
