Beneath the Armor

The sun had set hours ago. She knew it was a full moon; its bright light pierced trough the curtains, keeping her awake. She felt anxious since the darkness arrived, but now it seems out of control. The old clock on the wooden wall ticked loudly, each beat adding to her stress.
Tick, tick, tick... Time has started to blur together. She turned onto her side, pressing her hands over her ears. For a brief moment, a wave of relief swept over her as the ticking slowly disappeared ad her breathing became more steady. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in and thinking to herself that everything was fine. Nothing was wrong. She was safe. But when she opened her eyes, the tickiing returned-, louder, more persistent.
The clock seemed to mock her with its constant rhythm. Frustrated, she reached for her gun on her nightstand and fired toward the sound. The gunshot rang out, making her wince. But when she glanced at the floor, she saw the clock shattered, its glass scattered across the room. She let out a deep sigh, collapsing back onto her mattress. The quiet felt good at first. The mocking ticking stopped, allowing her to breathe.
The relief was short-lived. The silence turned quickly grew thick, pressing down on her like a weight. The absence of any sound became defeaning. Her breath quickened, heart pounding in her chest. It rang trough her ears like a bell, becoming quicker and louder with each beat. She sat up again, her eyes darting to the shattered clock, its broken pieces catching the moonlight like sharp, mocking smiles. Her hands trembled from anxiety. The room was too still, the shadows too sharp. The air itself felt heavy, suffocating her with its emptiness. She thought that the ticking was the problem, that it was making her anxious. But now she realises that the ticking was the only thing keeping her sane. She reached for the gun again, her fingers brushing its cold metal, though she wasnt sure why. It had brought her no comfort before, in fact, she despises even owning it. Yet, in the overwhelming quiet, it was the only thing that felt real. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the feeling would fade away. She hoped it would just pass, but it lingered, unwanted and persistent. Maybe it didn’t want her to be alone?
As she stared at the shattered glass pieces, she felt frozen, unable to look away. Countless little fragments seemed to reflect empty faces, staring back at her and pulling her into a deep well of memories. Each shard was a reminder of what she truly was, a monster.
She had never truly forgotten; she had just buried those memories deep down, hoping they would stay hidden. But now they resurfaced, each one sharp and painful. She could recall every innocent life she had taken, the faces and the sounds of their last moments. The fleeing, the pleading for mercy. You don’t forget something like that. The sadness and fear in their eyes were etched in her mind. She could see their memories flashing through them as panic set in, but no matter how much she wanted to just.. stop-, it was out of her reach. She had to follow each command as if it was her own. After what felt like hours, her door was kicked open. The moment she heard the crash, she bolted upright and emptied the entire magazine in that direction, ducking behind cover as she fired. Among the gunfire, she caught the sound of two loud thuds. Quickly, she grabbed another mag from her dresser, ready to reload, but paused when a familiar voice rang out:

"Sergeant! It's Sierra and Kit, put the gun down!"

She froze as the cold air flooded in from outside and she took her first stable breath. The weight on her chest lifted as if a boulder had been rolled away. She glanced around, the shadows stopped shifting, the shards of glass scattered on the floor lost their mocking faces. They were just broken glass now. She collapsed against the wall, exhaling sharply as her gun fell to the floor. She looked toward the door as Sierra and Kit stepped inside, scanning the room. Seeing members of her troop filled her with a deep sense of security. Feeling alone almost suffocated her. Seeing them being in the same room made the feeling go away. Of course she couldn't admit it out loud, but she was relieved to see them.
"What on EARTH were you thinking?!" she barked, her voice sharp voice. Sierra and Kit expected the outburst, standing at attention, faces expressionless. "How many times have I told you not to barge in like this?" Her tone softened slightly as she bent to retrieve her gun.
Kit spoke up, his voice steady despite watching her reload. "We apologize, Sergeant. We weren't far from your hut when we heard a gunshot, ma'am. We rushed over to check on you."
She glanced between him and Sierra, who gave her a simple nod. After a moment, she sighed. "Apologies for my outburst, then. You did the right thing. I'll report this to the Major tomorrow. Dismissed." Kit saluted and quickly disappeared, not daring to look back. He was terrified of her, everyone was. She was the deadliest soldier in the world. Whoever saw her that was out in the battle field knew that she will be the last thing before their death.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor as the door clicked shut. She hadn’t noticed that Sierra had stayed behind, hadn’t heard her heavy footsteps across the room, or when she kicked aside the broken glass. The Sergeant buried her face in her hands, her breath growing shaky as the panic returned. Her soldiers had almost seen her break down.. how could they still respect her now? And more importantly, she was alone again.
Lost in her spiraling thoughts, she barely noticed when Sierra sat beside her. Only when an arm wrapped gently around her shoulders did she snap out of her daze.

"Hey, Azu..." Sierra’s voice was soft as she pulled her closer.
Azu looked up, eyes wide with shock and panic. Sierra offered a small, reassuring smile, though the concern spread across her face. Azubah stared at her for a second before the dam broke. Tears poured down her face as she collapsed against Sierra, burying her face in her chest.

Sierra held her tightly, her hand slowly tracing patterns over Azubah's back.

"It’s okay," she whispered. "I’m here now. You're safe with me, my love.''