In a battle where ashes and blood were all in the air and choked the oxygen, Drake found himself right in the middle of it all. He was dressed as every other soldier on the battle field who either resembled a Barbarian or an Ancient Greek warrior. Drake just stood on a point, in awe of this carnage that unfolded right before his eyes and shock now finding its way into his veins.
The battle didn't get any lighter, as skulls were finding their way either into the skies of terror or the ground that just kept swallowing bodies in their numbers. Still in that moment, a man, armoured from his helmet to his sandals threw a javelin; a long stick that had the mouth of an arrow, right into Drake's heart from a distance more than 50 feet away.
"Ahh!" This was the only sound the dying Drake could spit out as blood poured right through his mouth as his knees went right to the ground on their own accord. He wasn't breathing fine anymore, with tears rolling down his dusty cheeks that had ashes from battle on them as he was just searching for hair that wasn't there anymore.
"No", Drake shouted with sweat dancing on all his face and body too as he rose up sharply from his bed. It was another nightmare. Drake, a seventeen year old white boy with blond hair that appeared attractive effortlessly woke up and stretched his hand to the table beside his bed and took a bottle of pills from which he took a tablet in his palms and swallowed it. Drake had still not recovered from that hellish nightmare as he just looked up at his ceiling like it was his first time seeing it. He needed a distraction, anything that could stop him from sleeping right now, but he couldn't just escape it.
After several minutes of attempted sleeplessness, Drake was fast asleep already.
"Zzrrr, zzrrr", the sound of Drake's alarm that just refused to stop until he stretched out his hand to hit its head. The sleep just couldn't leave his face immediately, and he yawned, maybe most of the sleep found its way out of his body through that too. Drake stood up from his bed in a slightly small room that had an outlook that just defined "simplicity".
Nothing phenomenal was in his room, no poster on the walls like all teenage kids or any nightmare buddies like teddy bears. It was simply his bed, a table coupled with a chair and a basket at the extreme end of the room. Drake switched on the light in his room and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower with his head under it and for a moment or two, it gave him what felt like peace, what felt like relief.
Drake lived with his foster parents who had taken him in since he was a child. They were old, maybe too old to only have a seventeen year old son in their lives. Grandma Suzanne and Grandpa Gerard were an American couple in their late sixties who looked inseparable that they could be mistaken for new lovers. Suzanne and Gerard's house was nothing over the top, just beautiful, and simple.
"Suzanne, what do you think of the coffee? Is it any better today?", Gerard asked with curiosity.
"Mmm.. It's not better, this is perfect.", Suzanne replied as she took a sip of the coffee in her cup with a little grin on her face.
"Kran, Kran", the stairs croaked as Drake came down from them in a speed not too much.
"Good morning Suzanne, Good morning Gerard", Drake said with a tone not too thrilled but a little smile on his fluffy cheeks.
Suzanne turned her head to look at Drake and noticed the worry in his looks or maybe his voice and sighed, "Another of those nightmares again?"
"Yes, it looks like they are back again", Drake replied softly as he walked towards the dining table to take the toast in a plate that looked like his'.
"Kiddo, you have an appointment with Dr Keating after school today, right?", Gerard said with a concerned voice.
"Yeah, I do", Drake said with a mouth too tight to reply any louder because of the toast he had stuffed into it.
"Bye, guys. Love you", Drake said with his bag on one of his shoulders as he stepped out of the house quickly to get to school.
"Love you too", the both of them replied with the front door being the audience as it closed.
In another house, away from there, Alessia walked down the stairs which seemed quite unending. This was not an average house as every furniture and touch of color was radiating the word, "Perfect" flawlessly. Alessia now turned to her left and stared at her family picture; there was a man dressed in an Army uniform, a woman who looked like a business woman and there was her.
Alessia was a seventeen year old pretty white girl with a comely face and an aura that just couldn't be described. She was wearing a red and gold gown that just stayed glued to her body impressively as she kept staring at the picture on the wall.