Guerreiro Tavares trained half of his life to be in a mercenary guild. Assassinated people and served criminals. A corpsman when he was in the Navy SEAL but perplexed when he was mandated to watch over a woman in a vegetative state.
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PUSHING CERISE away from me was a poor reflex. I just gave her the opportunity to escape again.
She was in my fucking hands! And it wasn't easy catching that woman.
I contemplated if I would just knock her off, but decided that I'd rather have her run with me than carry her all throughout the process of bringing her back to her cage. No doubt, I'll choose the former if we're not in an encounter.
The amount of regret that I feel is immeasurable.
Unexpected actions are inevitable in the middle of any war.
But fuck if that wasn't so stupid.
A grenade detonated from the window beside us and I received most of the impact that I fell and passed out.
Damn it.
I have no clue how long I was out. If the enemies saw me in that situation, they probably thought I was dead. Immediately as I gained consciousness, I took another cover to rest for a bit.
Because one of the fucker hit me with his rifle earlier, my temple swelled which affected my left eye. It's not totally shut, but I can barely open it now.
My whole body was aching but it was the worst on the side of my stomach because of the bullet. I am certain that the bruise now is so fucking horrible to look at.
Frustration commenced to fill me up abruptly as Cerise' escape popped into my head.
You want me to hunt you again?
Fine.
I will never stop until you're locked up.
That little woman was clever for covering herself in white. I'd give it to her. Maybe, I caught her from my scope but did not give her any attention because I was looking for a specific color.
She was also fine physically, before the bullet graze, which answers my question that she fell in the right manner from the second floor.
Damn her.
The war had totally ceased when I woke up.
Or is it?
There is no sound of any fire or explosion that I can hear.
I hope there are no more casualties. It may sound impossible but we were in a war once and all we had were minor and major injuries.
Brice's death crashed into me again. I hate myself for not checking for other injuries instead of only focusing on the ones that he mentioned.
This is what I abhor in my field. The never-ending guilt when I fail to save a comrade or just someone.
All of us here suffered the deaths of our comrades and brothers.
Seeing their life slowly losing away while saving them is like they are pulling my feet with them.
