Night fell, but the war didn't stop.
In the silence between gunfire, his thoughts bled into mine. His guilt. His grief. His desperate need to escape the nightmare of his own making.
He wasn't just tired.
He was broken.
I felt it—the rope hidden in his pack, the gun he kept a bullet reserved for. His mind circled the same thought again and again:
end it,
end it,
end it.
And for the first time, I understood my mission.
This man wasn't just fighting a war outside. He was fighting a war inside.
And he was losing.