I scrambled to the nearest cover, blind, cold, afraid. The guns swooned inside my perforated ears. The morbid smell of death intoxicated my lungs as I lay alone. Scared. I could see nothing, nothing but wretched darkness. Am I going to die? Those same five words spiralled around my exhausted head as I lay in a giant pool of my spewing blood. I put pressure over the deep wound in my stomach and my warm blood poured out over my shaking hands. Death. Death was inevitable. The guns continued to rattle and roar all around me, I could hear the terrified screams of my comrades, my friends. Were they going to die too? I wanted so desperately to shout for help, but my tired, strained and weak voice wouldn't allow me to. I forced myself to speak but still no sound came out. Nothing.
Then everything went numb.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak, I couldn't think. It was like a dark tidal wave had descended upon me and washed away all my senses. Surely, I must be dead? But then a thunderous crash exploded by my head and my frail body was catapulted into the air. My sight returned to me but I almost wished that it hadn't. What I saw would remain with me forever. Never to let me live in piece. So much, blood shed...so much... death.