They said that one day, eventually, the sickness goes away. The sudden vacuum that opens up in your chest and the disabling shivers that run up your back making the fine hairs stand on end. The feeling that someone has just mercilessly socked you in the stomach every time you see the mutilated corpse of what was once a person.

They lied.

It only ever gets worse.

Especially when you are the cause of the mutilation of a person. A person that once had a mother, father, siblings, family, friends. Now they're just a body, a plastic bag full of water.

That's all a body is.

Or so it should be. Being a healer, it goes against all instinct to kill.

But sometimes there's no choice. Never let your hurt show, not until you're safe back home. The home you were fighting and killing to protect. Only when you're alone in your isolated room away from prying eyes can you curl up into a shaking ball of tears, devastation and self-loathing.

It always hurts.

It always gets worse.

And when you see the body of somebody you knew not just from their page in the bingo books but from your own personal life, the pain is crippling.

But you cannot show it.

You have to move on.

And face the harsh reality.

Or the pain will swallow what is left of your soul.

Then someone will have to cry for you.


I promised, Jeremy, so here it is. Not good but I don't really care, it's from Sakura's point of view if you couldn't tell.