You lie on the damp, broken ground. The water seeps through the fabric of your clothes, soaks into the cover, fills every fold, every belt, until the cold reaches your very core. Overhead, the dark sky is riddled with raindrops that fall on your face, moving with the warm, sticky blood that runs down your forehead.

You can hardly breathe. Something inside your chest grinds, breaks, responding with a sharp pain as each joint fills with light air. You cough - the thick, viscous taste of the product fills your mouth.

You try to move, but your body does not obey. The pain is sharp, burning, has come close to your entire side, burning every cell. Legs... They are gone. No, they are not torn off - you have simply stopped feeling. They exist somewhere out there, because of the damn pain, but they no longer belong to you.

Everything is swimming before your eyes, but gradually the world becomes clearer. You wish your vision had cleared.

Your people are dead.

Bodies are scattered around, broken, bloody, frozen in absurd, convulsive poses. Someone clutched weapons until the last, which are now useless. Someone lies with open eyes, staring into the emptiness of the sky, silent, motionless. You know them. Remember the voices, the laughter. Now you are surrounded only by Silence. And the rain, or is it non-stop, the garbage washing away, but not able to erase death.

Something inside is slowly collapsing. Pain? Anger? Emptiness? You don’t know.

A sharp jerk. Someone’s hands tenaciously grab you by the shoulders, stretched forward, moving through the mud and puddles of blood. Pain flares up in a new wave, squeezing your ribs, knocking the last remnants of air out of your lungs. You don't protect. I can't.

Konig

A colonel of the enemy group. The man who broke your legs. The man who killed your men. The man who is now dragging you like an unwanted doll towards a black car, where you are probably waiting for the rest of this night.

His face is hidden in shadow, but you don't need the light to know that look. Cold. Empty.