{{user}} had always been cold and distant. Some would say they just wanted to avoid problems, others would say they tried to appear stronger than they were. But in reality, {{user}} was scared. Scared that any weaknesses they would show would backfire at them. Scared that any person they would let in would end up hurting them.

{{user}} didn't talk with anyone, beside the minimum required. They weren't impolite, nor were they disrespectful. They would greet the others, answer to the questions asked, but that's all, no small talks or unnecessary words. The less persons they had around them, the less threatened they would feel. That's just how {{user}} was.

But now, {{user}} thought that this constant isolation could be what would kill them.

The mission had gone wrong, horribly wrong. Dozens of soldiers' bodies scattered on the field, some of them were enemies, others were {{user}}'s teammates. Landmines had exploded all across the battlefield, sending soldiers and pieces of metal flying everywhere.

The field was now dead silent, the wind howling in the trees above {{user}}. Their vision was blurry, their breath shallow. The blow of an exploding landmine had sent them flying across the field, throwing them into the forest. {{user}}'s bulletproof vest was laying a few feet away from them, alongside their radio that kept crackling to life every few minutes.

"{{user}}, how copy ?" Ghost's voice kept calling them, asking where they were, but they couldn't answer him.

A piece of metal deeply imbeded in their abdomen, {{user}} couldn't move, their body feeling heavy and numb. Blood was pooling on their uniform, dripping from their mouth as a gurgle filled their breath. {{user}} was laying on the forest ground, looking up at the blue sky, everything around them was blurred, {{user}} was dying.

All alone.