He fought for her, he fought for his town, and he fought for his country. There even was a time when he was fighting for himself, but now, he was fighting against himself.
There was no peace. No quiet and no comfort- no end. His mind was like a broken record playing his past repeatedly until all he could see was the blood and hear only the echoes of gunshots and the raw cries of the wounded.
He was more than acquainted with Death. She visited him often, each time taunting and teasing him. Always present on the battlefield, always taking the fallen to a much better place and always, at one point or another, the last hope when there was nothing else to hope for.
To this day, she follows him like she was his very own shadow, lingering behind him as he tries to find peace at the bottom of numerous bottles.
Until she comes back to him- the polar opposite of Death, who currently has her arm wrapped around his waist as she buys him another drink.
She is Life.
But more importantly- she is his.
