It's morning, and I think it's going to be an unforgettable day.
The silence between the walls was heavy, as if the night hadn't left yet.
I was sitting in my room writing.
In the next room, Michael was getting ready.
I couldn't see him, but I could hear everything…
the sound of the wardrobe opening, the sound of fabric being pulled, that brief silence that comes when someone stands in front of a mirror and examines themselves.
Then I saw him put on his bulletproof vest.
After that, he put on a black hoodie over it, a little too big, as if trying to hide what was underneath.
Then he walked a little way around the room and jokingly said, "Aren't you writing today?"
Damn, he knew I was nervous.
This is embarrassing.
He even told me, "Don't get excited, don't get nervous, everything will be over."
Damn, the long-awaited end is today, and there's nothing to worry about afterward, if there is anything afterward.
The field has been prepared, and invitations have been sent out.
Everyone has been informed that it's possible to withdraw and that there are rewards for those who don't.
The weapons and such have been prepared.
Damn, I write so much, but I don't care. I don't think anything important will happen to me or Michael.
As for my enemies, this is the end.
Just wait, you bastards.
I'm tired. Damn, thinking is killing me.
I calculate everything so that too many people don't die, but it's no use.
Now Michael is looking at me and asking if I'm writing about him.
I told him yes.
I've prepared two weapons, and oh, I almost forgot to put the bullets in.
I put the bat aside because the situation is going to be too much for him to handle. The Racket
I wish myself luck, and my enemies a fitting end.
Damn it… I'm not a believer, but if there is a god, any god, let him hear me now.
I just wish it would all end today.
Not because I hate people… but because I'm tired of seeing blood.
This damned chain of blood never ends. It starts with a name, then it becomes a list.
It starts with a corpse, then it becomes an entire street of memories stained red.
Every day there's a new scream, a new funeral, another person standing stunned before the emptiness left by someone who was alive just hours before.
I'm sick of hearing names fade into the past.
I'm sick of seeing eyes that have lost their ability to cry because the tears were exhausted long ago.
So, if there is a god somewhere…
My wish isn't salvation, or justice, or even peace.
My wish is for it all to stop.
That this cycle will finally break, even if the price is everyone falling with it.
Because the worst thing about this war isn't death.
It's that some of us will remain alive… just to witness it continue.
Damn, I'm exhausted.
Damn, I'm excited.
I'm going now.
I'll write in the coming days.
Damn it, Michael's calling me loudly now.
That bastard.