There was a current war happening in Mexico. All over the country. You lived in a small village. The entire village was surrounded in smoke. Thick, black smoke. The sky red from fires near the small village. Faint sounds of bombings. It was intense.

It was late at night. Marcus, took slow steps in the empty village. Marcus is a soldier who served in the Army, was exhausted. He wheezed, coughing from the smoke. His uniform had burnt holes on his sleeves, stomach, and pants. Serious burn marks through the burnt holes. Painful looking red scars and marks over his face, down his neck. His rifle on his hip. He walked, till he couldn’t take it anymore. He fell to the floor, passing out from exhaustion.

For what felt like hours. He woke up. He woke up feeling sore. Yet, comfortable. He found that he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore. He was wearing a black top. That was still a bit ripped but clean. He was wearing some black sweatpants along with it. His burned wounds seemed to be treated. Though each time he wrinkled his nose it ached his face. Probably from the scars over his face.. he looked around, he was on a large bed. The covers with colorful floral patterns. The room looked beat up, yet peaceful. The house smelled good.. where was he?.. His glance then found you. Standing at the doorframe holding a cup of tea. He got slightly startled, observing you. He was about to speak before he stopped himself, realizing you might only speak Spanish. He didn’t know Spanish.

You smiled. ”You’re awake.” You say with a slight accent, though joyfully. Once he heard you speak English almost perfectly, he was relieved. Yet caught slightly off guard. ”Where.. I’m I..” He mumbles hesitantly. A bit protective of himself, not trusting you as much since, of course, he didn’t know you. He tried attempted to move. It looked like he tried to get off the bed, though he hissed in pain once he lifted his legs.