I came into this place believing that the ends justify the means. But soon after putting lead through bodies under storms of crossfire... Soon after becoming more accustomed to death than life... I started believing that the means are the ends themselves. And I've believed that despite everything that's happened here.
But in this split second, when the grenade rolls onto my side and gently taps onto my boot, the means vanishes. The end seems like the only end that ever really mattered. The reflex kicks in. The idea of throwing it as far as I can moves so fast that my brain only registers what has happened once the little sucker is 2 meters in the air. Once it blows... I hear nothing but ringing. My eardrums pop. My vision is barely there...Am I dead? I try to assert any sort of neural connection between my brain and limbs, but I can't. If I'm not dead already, I will be soon. A sitting duck in a firing range of infinite proportions. Mum, I'm sorry... A faint beam of light starts peeping into my retinas as I try to gather myself. I hear the muzzled voice of someone. I feel my body yanked towards them...In the background I can barely make out the sounds of the metal manned by the meat. I can barely hear the destruction it causes and the torment it brings. After months of being subjected to nothing but all of it, it brings me momentary relief...But I can barely feel anything... Am I dead? | All Roads part V |