Dust was being kicked up from your limp bodies being lazily tossed—it got into your eyes and mouths. A bit of blood was visible as well; being seen staining the brown a dark crimson.

The two of you were betrayed by someone you thought you could look up to as a leader—your own general, surprisingly.

Feeling cool gasoline soak into the gunshot wound in your chest stung like hell; but what made it even worse was feeling the hand of your best friend graze yours.

A heartache feeling.