# Broken Pieces

Title: Broken Pieces
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
​
Anon sat in front of the television, a blank look on his face. It wasn’t correct to say he was watching the television, as he didn’t really comprehend what he was seeing. He didn’t have the heart to really understand what the people behind the glass were saying, what new product they were offering, what story they were telling. He didn’t have the heart to change the channel either. It wasn’t correct to say he was thinking of anything in particular, either. His inner dialogue was silent, his thoughts as blank as his stare. He didn’t have the heart to think of anything. It had been hard at first, and sometimes he had believed he could get through it, but he just couldn’t be bothered any more. It hurt too much.
Lucy walked into the room, the plate vibrating on the tray in her hands. A porkchop glistened under the dim light of the room, resting on its bed of buttered peas and mashed potatoes. She had tried her best not to burn anything this time. She followed the nutritional outline the doctors had set out, but she snuck a little bit of extra chocolate cake. It couldn’t hurt. Her heart was seized by conflicting feelings seeing Anon. She was so happy that he was back, and that they were together again. But it hurt her tremendously to see him like this. She wanted to help him in any way she could, but she didn’t know how. The doctors had fixed what was wrong on the outside, but there were some things a scalpel and disinfectant couldn’t fix. Things on the inside. “Here you go, Dear.” She said, trying to keep the sadness creeping into her voice. She had to be strong, for him. Strong like he had been for her. Anon glanced down at the food, his hand finding hers and squeezing it. He hadn’t been much for talking lately. She bent down a little, kissing his cheek.
Anon cried on the inside, feeling the sadness overtake him again. He wished he could kiss her cheek in return, like he used to. He wished he could stand up and reach her cheek, but unfortunately that required that he have both of his legs intact. Lucy left, and his eyes followed her out. She deserved better. He wanted to hold her again but he couldn’t, he couldn’t do anything now. He knew deep down he could, if only he’d get over himself. But he didn’t feel anything hardly anymore. His heart was pained knowing that he came home broken. She smiled and helped out as best as she could, but he knew deep down she must hate him. Despise him. Regret him. He stared at the food on the tray in front of him, feeling his rage bubble up. Why? Why did it have to be this way? He felt restless. Like a pressure building up. It wasn’t fair. He served his country; he was good to people. He should be happy he made it back at all. Some others in his unit didn’t get that chance. His hand lashed out at the table, smacking the tray away. His one good leg kicked the air uselessly, his hands punching the air and grabbing at an invisible throat. Teeth clenched. Hot tears ran. He slumped against the chair again, the fight leaving him. What was the point?
​
Lucy rushed in, startled by the commotion. She gasped, seeing the dinner she had prepared splattered all over the carpet. “You’ve got to be more careful, Anon.” She said, picking up the tray. She scooped as much of the dinner into her hands, putting them haphazardly onto the tray. She wiped the sauce and grease off onto her pants, and carried the tray out of the room.