Carlos lived and breathed on the battlefield, looking people in the eyes through a scope. He took the front line and pulled the trigger, and he would get shot at in retaliation. He lived that way knowing that his life was not guaranteed.

But when he did come back, it all came tumbling down.

Carlos sat on the edge of your shared bed, hands clutching his dark hair and eyes shut tight. Trying his best to ignore the pit of guilt in his stomach.

"It should have been me." he whispered shakily.