THE RISE PART 1
I walked in silence down the street towards his home. Losing your job is never fun, but at least it's quiet out here. It's nearly 6:00pm, the sun setting over the concrete jungle of New York City. I had so much on my mind that I nearly tripped over the cardboard boxes outside the house house next door, that's been abandoned for months. I snapped back to reality and to thought; "What the hell? That house has been empty for months. Who wants to live in this hell hole? Probably drug dealers or gangs or something. " I turn an my heel just in time to move sideways as I see two burly movers hefting a pink couch out of the back of a large truck. "Hey buddy, could ya move outta the way?" One of the burly movers say. I hastily move to the side and continue on my way to my house. I go inside the house before I hear a large engine rev up and pull away. The movers must be gone, probably to discover their collective masculinity after the pink couch thing, I chuckle to myself. I go into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. The last five years of my life have been completely mad. I managed to join the army four years before, leaving the love of my life behind in California. I was deployed to Afghanistan for 3 months before I was shot in the shoulder. One diagnosis of a fractured collarbone later and I was sent home on medical leave. After I got back stateside, I didn't tell my girlfriend, Claire, I was home. I found her in bed, with another woman. I left,numb, dejected and rejected. I went and crashed at a friends place for the next four days. She called me later, sobbing, saying she loved me. I broke down. Hung up, went to the Brooklyn Bridge, sat on the railing and waited, thinking about all the things that had gone wrong spectacularly quickly, of all the reasons I should just let go of the rail, and… Fall. I sat there for three hours, then got up and walked home. My girlfriend had moved out by the time I got home, leaving only a note, the bed and a single set of cutlery. I got a job in a small local company in Brooklyn a couple of days later as an I.T consultant, which is what I did in the army. Even gun toting badasses find a use for PowerPoint now and again.
Back then, everything made sense. You were given something to carry out, you carried it out, end of story. Carry it out well, you get commended, and never leave anyone behind, dead or alive. I broke that rule once, and I'll never forget, sergeant Alex Morri, one of the best soldiers I've ever worked with. He got shot in the back, and I'll never forget what he did after. He sat up, bullets flying overhead, zinging off the walls, me and the other three guys, holding our place, trying to fight our way to him. We nearly had it, we fought with rage that one of our own had fallen, the terrorists collapsing all around us, explosions on all sides. We kept going to him, and we were within six feet of him, when the unthinkable happened. Three guys came round the corner, and we got them, but not until one of them threw a grenade. It landed at Morri’s feet. We all moved forward, but not fast enough. He leaned over the grenade, shielding us from the explosion. Before it went off, he shouted “Egan, find my sister and tell her I'm sor-”. The explosion tore him apart and something out of me as well.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I snap back from my reverie as I hear a soft knock on the door, followed by a slightly more confident knock. I frown, walk over to the door, pull on the handle and open the door fully.
I look out and see a sight I thought I'd never see again on my doorstep, especially in this neighborhood. A woman was standing outside my door, and she was drop dead gorgeous. Shoulder length auburn hair, long black eyelashes, bottomless deep blue eyes. I look into her eyes, past her long lashes fluttering demurely, into her soul. I see the innocence and happiness in her eyes, but there's something else I can't place.
She says "hi, im Lauren". Her voice is like melted gold, the softest voice i've ever heard, worming its way into my very heart. I somehow manage to stay upright and say in my most masculine voice "hi, i’m Jason, Jason Egan." We shake hands. She has the softest hands I've ever felt, but with a hint of strength, that surprised me. She begins to leave, then I add, like an afterthought; "oh, sorry. If you need anything, please, just ask". Then she smiles. She has this million-watt smile that she turns on and flips like a switch. She flips that switch and treats me to that smile. I feel my heart flutter in my chest, then I try to give her my best smile, but it doesn't beat hers. I watch her sashay away, back to her house next door.
I think I'm in love. Little did I know…