Days continued to pass in hunger and exhaustion… and then, one day, the daughter's condition worsened more than ever.
Her breathing was weak. Her eyes barely open.
Not knowing what else to do, Zonza placed her gently in his arms.
Zonza:Hold on, sweetie… We're going to reach there soon…
His legs ached.
But he kept walking.
Step after step.
The weight of his daughter felt heavier with every passing breath.
At long last, he reached the nearby city — and the hospital.
He rushed through the entrance, almost collapsing onto the floor.
Zonza: Please… help her… please…
A doctor stood there, expression dull, uncaring.
Doctor: We can't do that.
Zonza's voice cracked.
Zonza:Why not!? She's dying! Just—just treat her!
The doctor scoffed.
Doctor: Did you forget? Only those connected to the Royal Army deserve proper treatment here.
Not trash like you.
The words hit harder than any strike.
Zonza:Shut up…
Doctor (raising his voice): Oh? You dare talk back?
In one swift motion, he reached into his coat — and drew a gun.
He aimed it right at the little girl's head.
Time froze.
Zonza:No… no please… please, don't—
Doctor: Someone like this shouldn't be alive anyway.
BOOM.
The shot echoed through the silent hallway.
A drop of blood slid down the girl's forehead.
Zonza's arms went numb.
His legs gave out.
He dropped to his knees, staring blankly at the child in his arms.
Zonza (shaking): My daughter…
My daughter…
Tears streamed down his face — silently, endlessly.
The doctor stepped forward, brushing off his coat.
Doctor: That's what you get.
Something inside Zonza broke.
His hand clenched into a fist.
He stood — slowly — and struck the doctor across the face.
THUD!
The doctor slammed into the floor.
But before Zonza could move again—
A soldier behind him appeared, slamming a fist into Zonza's back.
THUD!
Zonza crashed to the ground.
He did not scream.
He did not resist.
He simply lay there —
crying quietly,
with the world dead around him.