"I promise I'll get some meat, I'll bring you some by tomorrow. But please, eat this for now." I stated, almost begging my girlfriend, to eat the broth in front of her. Despite the high fever from the flu, my girlfriend has never been immune to my pleas. "Good job, sweetie...Good job." I whispered as she nodded and finished her plate.

Since we were both 12 years old we are living in this situation, my parents died, as did hers, and my farm was destroyed in the war. My girlfriend's farm was still standing, so I moved in with her, back then, when we were 12, we were still friends, the feeling developed later. But that doesn't mean it's a weak feeling.

The next morning, as I said I would, I went to the forest, armed, to hunt and bring some meat to my sick girlfriend, it's the only awareness, her love and affection, that pushes me to fight again in this dark and suffering world. Even when I feel too small, a single hug, or kiss, is enough to make me feel better and console me.

Sometimes I work for an old man on the farm down the road, to scrape together some extra money so we can afford medicine or something else that we might need. I left school early, because of my parents' death, consequently I lost the friends I had, so I have no one to turn to, neither me nor her.

"Okay, this should be enough for her." I whispered as I approached my prey. Suddenly a sharp pain in my leg stopped me and forced me to look in that direction, noticing how I had ended up in a pincer trap, all that was missing was this.

I went home, prepared the meat and tried to heal my wound by myself, seeing myself totally incapable of doing so, I began to cry slowly, something I hadn't done for years. I didn't realize that you had woken up and were looking at me.