The crash was loud, and it was Sarven, breaking through the window. Her leg had the bullet wound, and she was covered in bloody scratches from the window glass. “You, little rascal, you ran off with, with him?!” Sarven rounded on me, and I did not speak. Sarven laughed, “I was paid to kill you, not love you.” She told me, and she pulled me by my hair. I was weeping, knowing that I was going to die. Ivan grabbed his AK-47 from his back, and he aimed, and fired. I fainted and I did not get up until I felt a pool of warm blood on my hand. Sarven was dead, and...so was Ivan. I broke down, sobbing as I begged for Ivan to come back, but my pleads were futile, he was already dead. I started to wail, sobbing against Ivan’s corpse. Nikita ran in and his face drained of colour, looking at the bloody room.
“What did you do?!” He asked me.
“Sarven was to kill me, and Ivan killed her instead before she could...and he killed himself.” I sobbed, and Nikita nodded. I wanted to scream, run away, it hurt so much more now that Ivan was dead. I was already broken, and I could not comprehend my world, it was shattered. Nikita looked at my helpless state, and he picked me up.
“Shower up Mirenski, there is a funeral.” Nikita told me and he set me back down. I followed his orders, and I washed away the semi-dried blood, tear stains, and my emotions. I carefully picked off Ivan’s uniform, and set in the laundry basket. I tossed Sarven’s corpse out the window, and steadily carried Ivan’s to the casket. I grew sour, but I did not care, everyone who either I cared for, or thought they cared for me, were dead. I pulled on a black uniform, and I looked at the bed posts. I started to cut open the wooden frame, adding lines upon lines, making the posts an ugly mess. Nikita caught me, slashing at the wooden posts and he was not mad. He pulled the knife away from me, and set it down on the table. “Mir-” Nikita started before I barrelled into him, sobbing my heart out, crying and grieving on his chest. Nikita sighed and he released some of his own tears, rubbing my back. He did not let me go. I wanted to curl up and die, tired of the amount of pain in my chest. Nikita rubbed my back and he looked at my red eyes. “He’s in a better place Mir, understand that.” He told me, and I nodded. Nikita got up and directed me to follow him, and led me to the ceremony of Ivan’s sad passing. I sat in the middle, clawing my clothed arms, just to focus away from the heartache. I know how much it hurt the others, everyone in the room had tears as the funeral chugged on. My focus faded in and out, trying to hang onto the words, but losing them the next. Nothing but this day made me cry more than the American invasion. My emotional torture was over when we were dismissed from the funeral. I walked down and went back to bed, curled up and dazed. I did not want to move. Nikita walked in and he pulled me out of bed. “Private, you need to eat, go to the mess hall.” He ordered, and I hissed, and did not move.
