Inspired By

thanks to @badasstrid for posting the prompts and giving me some writing motivation!

Eye Contact/Smoke, Fog, Haze-

I coughed, blood spattering against the dingy concrete floors. The door swung open, scraping against the floor causing me to tense against the tight shackles. "Please, no more. I've fought enough. You can't. You can't make me do it," I croaked as the figure moved towards me, stirring the dust and sand around, blinding me. The man cut the shackle chains, working quietly, and only then did I realize that this wasn't what I thought it was.
The man lifted me from the ground and carried me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing, and after these past months, I'm sure I did. I couldn't see anything more than the dust cloud forming behind us and muzzle flashes. Soon enough I was met with the shine of the moon n the otherwise bleak darkness of the desert. The man set me on the ground, gently placing a hand on either shoulder. "Hey, can you talk to me? What's your name?'
It took everything I had left in me to look up. He was dressed in tactical gear, a rifle slung over his left shoulder and a mask pulled over the lower half of his face. he was slightly taller, covered in sand and blood which caked his pant leg leading me to think something had happened. He looked like any other soldier running a recon gone wrong. But his eyes were something else. Angry, unforgiving eyes, hardened by too many fights and deaths. By too many killings. He pulled the mask off and repeated his questions.
"Lieutenant Madelin Dirks." He did a once over, assessing the situation in his head before handing me his pistol and helping me to my feet, bringing one of my arms around his shoulders.
"We're gonna get you out here, Ma'am."

black, text, and war zone image apocalypse, fiery, and guns image bullet, fire, and gun image quotes, black, and black and white image