It should have been you. That was the only thing running through your mind, over and over again as you watched Soap collapse after shoving you out of Makarovs way. Part of you wanted to think he would be alright, but the logical side knew that the chances of surviving a bullet to the head were slim to none. So you’re stuck in the crossfire, and then the silence as Makarov and his men flee. Tears track down your face, and God this hurts.

You can’t breathe, a dull, throbbing ache filling your chest. Your heart. It’s breaking, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. You’d just watched one of the people you loved most die trying to save you. He’s dead. And it’s all your fault.