Thoughts flooded my mind as I sat there helpless. I have an abundant amount of regrettable actions. However, one stood out.
Guatemala stood out to me. I just couldn't stop thinking about that haunting day. I patrolled a relatively minute settlement as usual. The settlement comprised of mainly women and children waiting to be safely taken to the neighbouring country as refugees. As you may assume it was a very tranquil environment. I loved this. I could comfortably use my 'freedom fighter' tittle to take advantage of my environment. Free cigarettes for me and a lavish number of pretty lasses for me to chat up.
Must have been going to take my fourth pack of cigarettes when an audible vibration could be heard from a distance. Must be more trucks delivering food for the people here, or so I thought. I sluggishly turned around and headed to my post. Back to the gate.
The thunderous engines got loud rapidly. This was no supply truck. Just as that realization dawned on me, there was a bombardment of gunfire. Within seconds, the turmoil erupted. I was too stunned to even move. The Guatemalan resistance had arrived.
The daze I experienced, caused my vision to blur. Immediately, I took out my pistol and started shooting aimlessly. The army had taught us protocol, but we never did focus too much on the lucid part of the training. All we cared about is firearm training, and the intense workouts, protocols were a tad too boring to care about.
Bam! I fired another blind shot. I must have fired at least four times before my vision cleared up, allowing me to see what I had done. I wish I could have passed out at the moment, but I just stood there.
A couple of meters ahead of me lay a girl, no older than 20. She stood there with a hole, where her right eye should be. Thick, rich red, blood oozed out of her right eye. She stayed upright, staring right at me for a few seconds before she fell to the rough, stony ground. I could not fathom what I had just done.
Of course, I did not intend to kill an innocent, but what happened had happened.
"what if someone saw me?" I murmured to myself. "damn, what have I done! If the higher-ups find out, imma lose me dignity... it's okay no-one will know. I'll blame the resistance..." I only thought of how to cover up my actions. The coward I am didn't even consider the pain I had inflicted or immorality of my thought.
Quickly, I looked around to make sure nobody else had witnessed anything. My eyes drifted to the right only to see a boy. I recognized the 17-year-old boy. Rico, the little brother of the girl I had murdered in vain. The boy dropped to his knees; he clearly had seen everything that happened. I shall never forget the look on his face. No loathing, no grief. His eyes dry as drought. He just had the look of absolute defeat. Devoid of all hope. It felt as though he looked through me, rather than at me.
Rico knew what was in store for him. He just knew. I pulled out my gun and aimed directly at his head. He didn't even flinch. After scanning the area to make sure there were no eyes looking directly at us, I hesitantly pulled the trigger. In the midst of all the commotion, my sin had gone unnoticed.
Moments later, I rushed to the vehicles and most of my troop and some civilians evacuated. The puny settlement and the remaining people were left at the hands of the resistance until the next army group goes to rescue.
Two weeks after, I was back home. Branded a hero. A brave, selfless soldier. I felt horrible for taking someone's life due to my blatant stupidity. However, a small part of me felt some pride in getting away with manslaughter.
That was fifteen years ago. I have good family, friends, neighbours, kids, all of them treat me well. They look up to me. I still wonder how they'd look at me if they knew what I had done. There are moments when I want to confess, but I am unable. I just can't muster the courage to utter the truth. Even if I did speak the truth, nobody would believe me. I no longer dream; all I have left are memories that haunt me. All I do is sit here, just sit. Unable to die, restless and unwilling to shut my eyes. Every time I doze, I see Rico and his sister, or I remember how I got into this asylum.
Surrounded by blank white walls, all I can do is reflect on the man I am. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I'd feel better if I finally did open up to my therapist, but I can't. My ego gets the better half of me.
Strange how we chose what's relatively convenient rather than what would be easier, or beneficial to us, isn't it?
I want to end my misery, but ever since the last attempt, my environment won't grant me the freedom to do so. So ill just sit here and wait....helpless...
