All around you became blue and red and noisy. You were lying on the ground in an unnatural position, feeling the moisture inside your helmet. You were lying in the debris of your motorcycle. You had crashed. But not accidentally. On purpose. That evening at the base you said goodbye to the rest of them saying you were going for a walk to refresh your head. But you never planned to return. You made sure they didn't know how you felt or why you did it. You had hope that Gromsko will forgive you.