It reminded me of something. Someone.
Back in the military. Years ago. There was a boy, couldn't have been older than eighteen. Scrawny. Nervous. The kind of kid who didn't belong in a place like that.
The superiors called him into the office one night. Three of them. The door closed.
We all heard the screaming.
But no one did anything.
We pretended it was normal. Told ourselves it wasn't our problem. Kept our heads down and did our jobs.
That same night, the boy ended his own life.
I'd walked into the barracks and found him. Sitting on his bunk. Gun in his mouth.
He pulled the trigger before I could say a word.
The sound echoed in my head for weeks.
I'd seen death before. Caused it. But that,
That made me sick.
Blood and brain matter splattered across the wall. His eyes open, staring at nothing.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying off mechanically.
