You stare in wonder as the crimson liquid pools beneath the fallen enemy soldier. It scares you that one single bullet can cause so much damage. You suppose you always knew that war was like this, but it's different to see it up close. It's too real, too close. Just as the man's blood is pouring from his wound, you feel all emotion flowing out of you.

You start when he grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you. He wants to know that you're okay. You don't think you ever will be.

He glances down at the gun in your hand, and then follows your gaze to the fallen enemy. You know that he wants to take the gun from you, to shield you from this. It's all he's ever wanted to do.

But you know it's too late for that. Whatever you once felt towards the men on the other side of the tree line is gone. You once thought that they were men just like you. They were people that felt and had families and were just trying to get by.

You were wrong. They are killers. They attacked for no reason, simply for the sheer pleasure of watching your side fall. Knowing that should make it easier to kill; it just makes you feel colder.

It's not often that you go off world with John and his team. In fact, you never go unless it's for negotiating. You have always preferred to fight with words, not with weapons. But that reasoning flew out the window when they started firing at you.

You remember the cold feel of the metal when he pushed the gun into your hand and told you to use it if you had to. You had hoped you wouldn't need to, but you took the gun when you looked into his eyes and saw that he knew that you would.

He was right. The need was there, and you're afraid and ashamed because you didn't find it as hard as you thought it would be when it came down to it. It was them or you with only bullets in between and you did what you had to to stay alive.

The fight is over, and you all survived. It had ended as quickly as it had begun. No one from your side was injured seriously. John grabs your arm and gently pulls you along toward the gate, glancing over at you occasionally. He knows you are far from okay, but he hopes that with time you will be yourself again.

You can't find the words to tell him he's wrong.