5. Sergeant

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Author's magical beginning note

Edit: my little interactions with the story seems to go well so I'm keeping them in for ya

I don't know how good this chapter will end up being but chances are there will be spelling mistakes and lousy punctuation (none of this is my fault but the cute little cat that is wide awake next to me keeps walking on my computer keyboard, I have written this author's note almost a total of 4 times already).

You can skip this chapter if you wish (but I advise not to) as this part is just about the sergeant called Jace Tyler. This name comes from the people who suggested the sergeant's name. The first name 'Jace' was chosen by Alicori and the last name 'Tyler' was suggested by Jaylene Olebar on fanfiction.net

This chapter will be in the sergeants point of view.

And that's the end of my magical beginning note, i say magical, it wasn't... was it. And I know all to well that not everyone reads these notes, so thank you if you did.

Sergeant

Life it tough for me, I know it always has been and every day that passes, every hope that flickers never makes my past, present and maybe future easier for me. I'm the sergeant of brecon beacons SAS camp in Wales, my real name is Jace Tyler.

Yes, I had parents and a family and I know some fail to have those things and I can't say I was not greatful to them for some stuff but... when I was 5 I became really curious of things. Back then I had no idea of anything my parents did and they never told me, I had to find out by myself. Around those 5 years of age, I asked tonnes of questions.

*Flashback*

"Daddy, just tell me already. Why don't you just tell me daddy? I'm your son." I whined.

"Brat, shut up." My daddy said and took away my toys, he then came back to loom over me "Naughty stool BRAT!" A tear slipped down my face as I tried to protest and get him to answer me, I felt his big rough hand grab hold of me and swoop me up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder and he dropped, not put me down, dropped me onto the hard wooden stool in the empty spare room and locked the door as he went out. It was a new edition (the lock) after i kept on running back out.

*End flashback*

I had been asking for so long. Back then at school (it was my first year in proper school) every boy in my class was talking about how their Dad worked in a supermarket or even owned one. The girls just talked of dolls so I ignored them. Anyways, I couldn't help but feel down that I had no idea what my parents did for a living, I was incredibly curious. My young self, at the age of 5, did not know when to give up and no matter how many times I was demanded onto the naughty stool in the corner of the living room, shut away by locked doors, got toys taken away and shoved out into the snow one christmas in pyjamas, I was always get more and more curious to what they didn't tell me.

*Flashback*

"DADDY! TELL ME!" I cried, I got no answer and was scared. I shouldn't of shouted. I shouldn't have continued again. Hands grabbed me again but this time I was even more scared when he didn't take me to the naughty stool. He carried me over his shoulder to the front door and opened it. Cold. I was cold. I hate the snow, it's freezing. I was in my Pyjamas and I got thrown through the air and landed in the snow with a light thump. I was terrified. The last time I was out in the snow, I was wearing a massive coat, gloves and hat but still got blue lips and finger tips, that's what made me even more scared. My arm throbbed and I looked at it as pain shot through me. no pain had been like this before but I refused to call out. My left arm was dangling in a strange position. I hadn't learnt this in school. We just learnt how to count to 100 and about the words 'because', 'but' and 'so'.

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