Scene 2 – The Return
I wake with a jolt. The roar of the plane's engines hums in my ears. The desert fades, but the blood lingers in my mind.
We're going home. National heroes. Medals, promotions, handshakes, salutes.
But a single thought keeps running through me:
Useless, stupid bastards.
They should all die; the ones who sent us there, the ones who smile now and call us heroes. They are the reason she's gone. Not even a thousand bullets could settle that debt. My cruelty grows, but my face betrays nothing.
My sister once told me I always wore a big smile. Photos proved her right. The camera never caught the storm beneath.
Back home, nothing had changed. My younger brother still buried in his medical books. My mother still soft, still gentle. My father still a drunk. Life carried on, untouched by the war that hollowed me out.
For a moment, I thought being home would heal me.
It did.
But only for two days.
One of those days was Rosa's funeral.
Standing before her casket, I faced the truth: the only woman I ever loved now lay cold in that wooden box. I would never see her again with my eyes open. Only in dreams or nightmares. My Rosa.
The thought of never touching her again broke me. Tears forced their way down as I walked toward her casket. Every memory good and bad seemed beautiful now that they were gone.
I leaned over to see her face. Even through makeup, the scratches, the marks, the reminders of how she died could not be hidden. The memories slammed into me like tanks rolling over my body, again and again.
And all I could whisper was:
"Why…?"
"WHY?"
"WHY!"
Every rational thought shattered. My mind flooded with questions:
Why did you rush ahead?
Why didn't you wait?
Why didn't you stay beside me?
Why did I meet you, only to lose you?
Finally, all my questions ended with the only one that mattered:
Why do I love you so much?
And the plea I couldn't hold back:
"Will you wait for me in the next world?"
This gives more breathing pauses (shorter sentences, stronger breaks), so the grief has room to echo.