Written during a class that is brain-numbingly boring. Not perfect.
Disclaimer: I don't own Far Cry 3
Jason Brody awoke with a gasp as his nightmare faded away. The memory of that damned ritual, where he had been given the choice to kill his friends and become a warrior of the Rakyat people. The moment where he'd held that blade to his girlfriends neck, and realized just how far he'd truly fallen. When he had fully grasped how sickeningly easy it had become for him to kill.
How easy it would have been, just to slide that knife across Liza's skin. To draw blood and end her life right then and there, leaving her gasping for her last breaths, hanging away and looking at him with that frightened look of betrayal as her jugular spilled blood faster than anything could hope to stop. His friends screaming at him in horror. How easy would it have been to end lives of those that had driven him to kill in the first place? To wipe his past out of his life?
That's what it had taken for Jason to realize what kind of a monster he'd truly become. It was a state he could never recover from. He could still feel that monster, deep inside. Trying to claw it's way to the surface. Urging him to kill. Would it ever go away? Or would it fight and fight until he just gave in and let it have control of his life again? Could he ever hope to make up for his actions on the islands?
His feet swung off the mattress and landed on the cold floor of the boat beneath him, standing up with the purpose to walk off his nightmare in the small confines of the yacht. Unable to sleep for the rest of the night, he couldn't help but think of the answer to his question. And the only answer he could think of, was a resounding 'no.'.
If there were any way for him to begin to make up for his actions, he could only imagine that it would have to involve keeping his surviving friends and family safe. Even if that meant keeping them safe from himself.