No Time To Die- ARTHURMORGAN x O/C

Arthur's Journal Entery 5

I've had a lot on my mind lately—more than usual—and I reckon I ought to write it down before it all slips away. I guess it's been building for some time now, but everything seems to be a damn mess, and it weighs heavy on me like a stone in my gut.
Claudia... She doesn't look like herself anymore. It's hard to put it into words. When she first came back to camp after being captured, I thought perhaps it was just the shock of it all settling in. But now, I see it every day—the way her shoulders sag, the hollow look in her eyes that wasn't there before. She seems... lost. I'd heard she hadn't taken Hosea's death well; they were close, like old friends. I can't imagine the mental toll that loss has taken on her. Every time I catch her gaze drifting off into the distance, I see someone searching for something they can't quite grasp.
It eats at me, knowing that we're all struggling in our own ways, yet she carries that burden like it's all on her. None of us knew how to pick up the pieces after we lost Hosea. He was one of the true ones in our gang—the heart of the family—always knowing how to make us see the brighter side of this shatter of a life we've created. Without him, there's a shadow hanging over us.
I overheard Dutch and Claudia arguing earlier on, it didn't sound good. One day he thinks of her as a daughter, the next he thinks of her as a stranger.
Then, there's Guarma. I hate thinking about that godforsaken place. Being trapped there felt like living in a nightmare—like a cruel twist of fate. All those damn beaches and tropical paradises couldn't obscure the reality of our situation. The illusion of freedom was shattered by fear every time that jar of guards came too close behind us. Those endless days and sleepless nights were punctuated by the sounds of gunfire and the brutal reminder that we were on borrowed time.
And Dutch... God, Dutch. When we were down there, he killed an old woman in cold blood without so much as blinking. I still can't shake the image from my head—the horror of it, the way he justified it like it was nothing. Apparently she was going to betray us, but all I saw was an old woman just wanting more money off us. I understood the world we lived in—the law was against us, and it wouldn't hesitate to turn the gallows on any of us—but we weren't supposed to be them. We were supposed to stand for something more than mindless violence.
I've been thinking about all this too much, I know. But these memories cling to me like the dampness of the night air. I've seen enough death to drown a man in doubt, and I just feel lost sometimes, like I'm wandering through the dark without a light to guide me.
I wish I could reach out to Claudia, help her with her pain. Maybe it's my role as a protector; I've always taken that to heart, but it feels heavier than it ever did before. I want to tell her everything will be alright, that we'll find a way through this, but I don't have the answers myself. I keep hoping that, as time moves on, some weight will lift from her shoulders.
I just wish Hosea hadn't been taken from us. That if there was one thing I could change, it would be to keep him here, to guide us through this twisted path we've chosen.
For now, we're just left struggling to make sense of it all, and I reckon I have to stay strong—not only for Claudia but for the rest of the camp. Because if I fall apart, what's left?
So, here I am, putting my thoughts to paper. Maybe it'll help me sort through the chaos. Maybe it won't. But at least it's a start, and a reminder that I'm still standing.
Life continues on, and so must we.