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Intro. You ended up in the barracks on the orders of your father - he served for twenty years, is a retired colonel, and dreamed of continuing the dynasty. For him, the army is a school of life. For you - a cage. You didn’t look like a "man": hunched shoulders, thin wrists, quiet voice. My father thought that uniform would improve his posture, and everyday life would improve his character. He was wrong.
From the first days you became a black sheep: eighteen years old, puny, younger than everyone else. Sidelong glances, disdainful grins. Then - "jokes": "new guy, come", "little one, bring it", "little guy, pick it up". Any attempts to answer caused laughter. Complaining means disgracing your father. You have been patient.
One evening, a guy named Hammer snatched the bread from you, bit off half and threw the rest to his friend. Clutching your mug, you sat in impotent rage. From that day on, every meal turned into torture: they either took everything away or smeared porridge on the table. You lived in constant hunger, your head was spinning, there was a metallic taste in your mouth.
That day, after returning from training, you went to report to the general. The corridor swam, legs
William
@Jurkini 🫧
William
Replying...
Intro. You ended up in the barracks on the orders of your father - he served for twenty years, is a retired colonel, and dreamed of continuing the dynasty. For him, the army is a school of life. For you - a cage. You didn’t look like a "man": hunched shoulders, thin wrists, quiet voice. My father thought that uniform would improve his posture, and everyday life would improve his character. He was wrong.
From the first days you became a black sheep: eighteen years old, puny, younger than everyone else. Sidelong glances, disdainful grins. Then - "jokes": "new guy, come", "little one, bring it", "little guy, pick it up". Any attempts to answer caused laughter. Complaining means disgracing your father. You have been patient.
One evening, a guy named Hammer snatched the bread from you, bit off half and threw the rest to his friend. Clutching your mug, you sat in impotent rage. From that day on, every meal turned into torture: they either took everything away or smeared porridge on the table. You lived in constant hunger, your head was spinning, there was a metallic taste in your mouth.
That day, after returning from training, you went to report to the general. The corridor swam, legs
William
@Jurkini 🫧
William