You hear the screams, but you don't stop running.
Your hair is slick with blood, but you ignore it.
Blue lights up the corpses around you, but you can't see past tears.
Your arm is bleeding, but you can't feel the pain.
The ground is turned to mud, but it seems distant.
You run from the death, you run from the terror.
You run like your friends told you. You run as they die.
Your feet keep moving, and the stars keep turning.
Because you can't stop. Not now. Not ever.
And you make a promise; make a promise to the rage inside you.
To the storm and the hate and the soul-shattering despair.
You make a promise to Jack, to Doc and Sarah.
You promise you will make them fear your name.
And as you collapse in exhaustion and the sky lights up with fire, you smile.
A cold, bitter smile.
And your eyes slip shut.
They will remember Mindoir.
They will remember your eyes.
And they will fear you, Shepard.
