Pending Death

when everything goes dark.

When the pain grows so intense it becomes unlivable.

When even torture feels merciful in comparison.

And no—I'm not talking about physical pain.

Not even emotions.

Because by then… emotions no longer exist.

The body becomes indestructible.

Hollow.

Trapped in an endless loop of suffering,

drowning in a despair without a beginning… or an end.

You can be surrounded by people,

but you're still utterly alone.

And even if happiness comes knocking,

you don't see it.

Your eyes perceive only the shadows of the world.

So you smile.

To keep up appearances.

But that smile fades.

And one day, you don't even have the strength to curl your lips.

That's when it happens.

You break.

You explode.

You destroy everything.

Because at some point, you start believing nothing is worth the fight.

That's what happened to me.

I was exhausted.

And in the end… I shattered.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

But what causes such unbearable pain?

Something painfully simple.

Ironic, even.

Acceptance.

When you accept that the outcome is unbearable,

hope dies.

And madness takes root in reality.

No—you don't lose your mind.

It's worse.

You stay sane. Too sane.

But your heart turns to stone.

> The accepted cause: the war.

The inevitable: death.

For a soldier, the worst part isn't dying.

It's accepting death as normal.

As a "noble" outcome.

That's when you lose everything.

Your humanity.

Your dreams.

Your emotions.

And with every gunshot,

with every name scratched off the list,

your heart grows darker.

But even that…

was only the beginning.

They sent me back to the front after a few months.

This time with a promotion.

I didn't know why.

I assumed it was to bury case 23678JH—

the one that cost Marc… and his unit… their lives.

But I didn't care.

War is still war, no matter your rank.

Yet some suffer more than others.

And that… I refused to accept.

Two days in, my promotion felt like a curse.

Each day, I lost another piece of my soul.

And what was left kept rotting, blackening slowly.

I often wondered…

How did Jovany manage to survive with a smile?

He didn't reflect my soul.

His was probably even darker.

If it still existed at all.

Maybe he was stronger than me.

Or maybe… he was just as hollow.

For me, every day felt the same.

A speech.

A well-polished lie.

Missions that dragged on too long.

Nights far too short.

And always the same announcement upon return:

> "Soldiers… today we lost seventeen brothers-in-arms.

Their bravery will not be forgotten.

Faline, in particular, distinguished herself.

The army salutes them."

I hated those speeches.

They reminded me how quickly everything could end.

How my own life hung by a thread.

And it kept going:

> "Lionel fell today. He fought until the end."

Each time, I saw the bodies.

The blood.

The screams.

And I vomited.

Again.

> "Chackit's squad was wiped out. But their mission succeeded."

I vomited. Again and again.

> "Willy is dead. He was brave to his last breath."

Sleep abandoned me.

I drowned in insomnia made of echoes and shadows.

> "Mélina and Lucí are gone. May their memory inspire us."

Again.

> "Martine fell with her men. But…"

Silence.

Nothing more.

And then…

I slept.

For the first time in weeks.

Thanks to one thing:

The SXH4.

The drug of two worlds' happiness.

An artificial peace…

at the cost of your soul.

But one day, even the drug stopped working.

They sent me south.

And in the middle of a skirmish, I strayed too far.

I got lost.

Deep in the forest.

Too close to the enemy.

That's when I saw him.

A man.

The only thing that set us apart?

Our uniforms.

Instinct took over.

I raised my weapon, aiming at his face.

He lifted his hands.

Tried to speak.

Then dropped to his knees.

He begged.

> "Please… I have a sister waiting for me.

I don't want to die.

It's not my fault…

Let me live.

You can say you never saw me…"

My finger tightened on the trigger.

My hands trembled.

My heart thudded—or maybe it didn't. I couldn't tell anymore.

Bang.

One shot.

He fell.

It wasn't my first kill.

But this one…

I don't know why…

it haunted me.

> "I'm… really sorry."

I had no choice.

If he'd had the chance… he would've killed me.

But deep down, I knew…

that wasn't it.

I wanted to believe my action was that of a true soldier.

But sometimes, even a good soldier

can no longer look at themselves in the mirror.

I walked away.

Not stronger.

Not prouder.

Just… emptier.

To be continued…Jenny, Hot Chocolate, and the End...