(i decided to write a little drabble of just Nancy's thoughts at Bastonge and her being introspective, no real plot i just wanted to write about her and didn't know what to write!)
(TW: Discussion of religion, heavy angst, discussion of war and death (obviously), just Nancy being an angsty little nihilist)
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Nancy's never had it easy. All her life has been battle after battle, some she's survived by the skin of her teeth. She was an embroidery of scars and memories.
Nancy huffed against the cold as she stared up at the trees above her, snowflakes dusting her eyelashes. She finally had a chance to just sit on her own to write in her journal, and she didn't know how long it would be like that, it was rarely quiet. It was too quiet and yet too loud in these damned woods. It reminded her of winter in Wyoming, but even Wyoming wasn't this damn cold.
Sometimes she wondered if God was real. She was raised Catholic, but she couldn't imagine a loving God allowing all of this shit. She couldn't imagine a loving God creating a world where young men died in the war machine. A world where people were being put in concentration camps for the crime of being alive. This wasn't the first time she questioned if God was here, hardly the first. She questioned it while her and her sisters almost starved in the Depression while she and her mother tried to put food on the table. She questioned it when she was with James... She's questioned if God was real before, or if he was just something made up to make humans feel better about how awful we are. A false figure of hope in a hopeless world. What did Nietzsche say? "God is dead and we have killed him"?
She shouldn't think like that.
"Think of home, boys!"
She didn't know what she was going to do when she made it home. If she made it home at all. How could she go back after this? After all she's seen and done? What was the point?
Whatever, she could step on a landmine or get shot in the line of duty any moment. She didn't have time to think like that. She had to keep her focus on what was infront of her, because for these men, whether she's distracted or not can possibly mean the difference between life and death.
Those were thoughts for when she had time to think. And that wasn't now.
Focus on what's in front of you, Donovan. Not the past or the present. Think of your sisters back home, you promised you'd come back to them. You're doing this for them.
There's no place like home.
