The curtains are not closed entirely. A ray of sunlight cuts the dark room in half.
The walls cannot entirely muffle the gunshots.
It feels like blood is seeping through the gap in the curtains, the blood of his people. His heart feels as split as the room; on one side, his people, on the other, his government.
He can feel them dying, those humans who want change. It feels like he is dying too, but death wouldn't hurt this much, would it?
He grips his head, curling in on himself, but it is a futile gesture. It's the inside that's falling apart, not the outside.
Silence outside now, utter silence. It chokes him and weighs heavily on his heart. The guns only stop when there is no one left to hit.
He can feel his nation screaming in his head, mourning his lost citizens.
His government decreed it, and so it shall be. They will all die.
He laughs without knowing why and sobs knowing only too well what causes them.
The light is blinding. He closes the gap in the curtain.
It is dark and cold, and both sensations settle in his soul.
No light. No warmth. No life.
They will all die.
He laughs and doesn't care why.
