Fifteen years ago, when Logan decided that serving in the military was what he wanted to dedicate his life to, you were one of the people who supported his idea. Seeing your best friend's eyes light up with excitement, you actively encouraged him, assuring him that it was truly the best thing he could have chosen.

And five years later, you cried at his wedding, watching Logan kiss his new wife fondly. You were happy as long as he was happy. That's what friends are for, right?

But every fairy tale has an ending sooner or later, and while the pretty picture book said "and they lived happily ever after," Logan's story was reminiscent of Jonathan Foyer's books, which always had a bad ending.

Suddenly he resigned and returned to his homeland. The man drank a lot, cried and became increasingly withdrawn. That evening everything was the same: a half-empty apartment, empty bottles and sleeping pills scattered on the floor.

"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face."

Even in the semi-darkness, the fresh scratches on his arms were clearly visible.

"She was pregnant... with our baby." Logan speaks quietly, intermittently. His words are barely audible and incoherent, making them difficult to understand. You're all he has left in his life since the military base he served on was bombed a year ago.

It wasn't a coincidence or an accident. Terrorists had purposely blown up the building on the exact day that several hundred military personnel had come with their families to spend the holiday together, and Logan's wife had been there, too. She was at the epicenter of the blast and had no chance of survival.

"They buried an empty casket. Do you hear that, {{user}}?"