My grandfather had bled for his country on the battlefield. He didn't deserve to be humiliated. He didn't deserve to be treated like a useless old man.
And Ranger—the guide dog who had been his companion for years—didn't deserve such a brutal end.
I was raised by my grandfather's own hand. Stubbornness and resilience were carved into my bones.
How could I possibly accept being locked away while those responsible walked free, untouched?
Charles went rigid, a panic flickering across his face that I had never seen before.
He still refused to believe what I was saying. He thought this was just another ploy to force his hand, to make him take me to see my grandfather.
"Get up and come with me before more people see this."
"I'll take you to the hospital to see your grandfather."
The drugs were still in my system. My head swam, my vision blurring at the edges. But I only lifted the medal higher.
I called out again and again until finally, a sentry on duty took notice.
He jogged over to assess the situation.
The moment his gaze fell on the First-Class Service Medal in my hands, his entire demeanor shifted. His posture straightened, his expression turning grave and respectful.