jelma... more than just a girl...
First day
"My parents took me out for dinner in town. We were eating in McDonald's when the North Korean terrorists attacked. First they opened fire with machine guns and then they set bombs off, blowing themselves, many people and McDonald's up. My parents were both killed. They were blown apart. Nothing remained of them. They looked like red jam spread all over the walls and floor. I remember that scene very well. I was wounded. I had shrapnel wounds and was terribly burned. I carry the scars of both today, as you can see. More scars are inside, hidden. I was in a coma for three months in intensive care. I'm a casualty of war, just like my parents and the other innocent people murdered that day. People in a war that first started in 1950 and won't ever end. Not anytime soon. This new conflict with our countries affects both of us. I'm sick of war Chen! Let people make love not war." Jelma explained to Chen what happened in a quiet voice. She wasn't upset. Her pain, anger and sadness had faded over the decades. Replaced by hope and love and creativity.
Chen nodded as he listened to his girlfriend describe her story. It sounded like something out of a war film or a story told by a stranger. Not an event that had happened to someone dear to him. No, that wasn't impossible. But it was. Jelma was here, right next to him, talking about her awful experience. That terrorist attack had happened to her, almost killing her. Killing her parents. And many more innocent people. He traced his fingers over the scars on her left shoulder. She let him. How was this possible? My Jelma was there. They did this to her. North Korean terrorists.
"I don't know what to say my dear Jelma. I'm lost for words. You were nearly killed decades before we met. That's wrong..." Chen commented. His gaze was stern. He looked at Jelma, saw her pain at reliving old memories. Memories where dozens of people horrifically died. Sights from a war.
"My parents took me out for dinner in town. We were eating in McDonald's when the North Korean terrorists attacked. First they opened fire with machine guns and then they set bombs off, blowing themselves, many people and McDonald's up. My parents were both killed. They were blown apart. Nothing remained of them. They looked like red jam spread all over the walls and floor. I remember that scene very well. I was wounded. I had shrapnel wounds and was terribly burned. I carry the scars of both today, as you can see. More scars are inside, hidden. I was in a coma for three months in intensive care. I'm a casualty of war, just like my parents and the other innocent people murdered that day. People in a war that first started in 1950 and won't ever end. Not anytime soon. This new conflict with our countries affects both of us. I'm sick of war Chen! Let people make love not war." Jelma explained to Chen what happened in a quiet voice. She wasn't upset. Her pain, anger and sadness had faded over the decades. Replaced by hope and love and creativity.
Chen nodded as he listened to his girlfriend describe her story. It sounded like something out of a war film or a story told by a stranger. Not an event that had happened to someone dear to him. No, that wasn't impossible. But it was. Jelma was here, right next to him, talking about her awful experience. That terrorist attack had happened to her, almost killing her. Killing her parents. And many more innocent people. He traced his fingers over the scars on her left shoulder. She let him. How was this possible? My Jelma was there. They did this to her. North Korean terrorists.
"I don't know what to say my dear Jelma. I'm lost for words. You were nearly killed decades before we met. That's wrong..." Chen commented. His gaze was stern. He looked at Jelma, saw her pain at reliving old memories. Memories where dozens of people horrifically died. Sights from a war.
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