Jester's POV
The Jester stepped out into the streets of Amberdia, bombs in hand. He laughed maniacally as he threw one at the largest apartment building in town.
It exploded in a blast of light. It was his own special creation: c4 and some fireworks to give it some pizzazz. He thought that the display was the most beautiful thing in the world, but I disagree.
There's nothing beautiful about terrorism. It's ugly, vile, and cruel. I hate that I have to describe this horrific event.
Over a thousand people died. All the survivors got PTSD. Most had survivor’s guilt, and a few killed themselves. Even now, hundreds of years later, I will never forget the horrors I saw that day. I am the last living survivor.
I was in apartment 104, watching tv with my wife, when I heard the sound of the bomb going off. Then I felt the entire room shake. I thought it was an earthquake, so we hid in the door frame, the most sturdy place in the house. My wife, being the taller one, sheltered me from the falling debris. I had my head down, tears falling down my face. I felt something sticky land on my head. I touched it and looked at it. It was blood.
I looked up to see one particularly jagged piece of debris sticking through my wife's throat. I was mortified. She was the love of my life, and she was here one instant, and gone the next. Tears continued to fall down my face as I pulled her away and into the living room. I tried to secure the wound, but it was too late. She was gone.
A man rushed in.
"Miss. Come with us. The building is collapsing," he said.
I refused to leave my wife. He had to drag me away, kicking and screaming. I may have survived, but part of me died that day.
