Engulfed in ash and dirt, his service uniform splattered with the lives of his enemies, Charlie peeled off his blood-stained gloves, revealing the smooth, unmarred skin underneath. He dropped the gloves onto his lap as he sat and stared at the gravel beneath him. The ringing in his ears arrived again like a distant whisper, the calling of a memory buried so deep it could not be found again, but yet it still came. His mind went blank as the drool in his mouth slipped out of his slit mouth. Charlie did not even notice. His body shook from the amount of drive and power he had used against his enemies as beads of sweat were exerted from his glands.

Unexpressively, completely lost in his own thoughts, Charlie gazed upon the lifeless bodies surrounding him. Many bodies in uniform, eyelids still open in a dead but horror-striken expression - forever frozen - on their faces as their hands remained gripping firmly onto their rifles and knives.

For Charlie, before arriving onto the battlefield, he thought it would be hours until this fight was over. It seemed like it was only five minutes for him and his team to rip their souls from their vessels.

Charlie surrendered to the fog creeping in, like a child in the night through an old hallway across yawning floorboards, along with the rain that wept for all the souls that were lost on this day and it all reminded Charlie of his own mind. His mind clouded with fear and insanity invading his thoughts with the overwhelming pain he brought upon himself as he took lives from everyone around him. He knew his mind would shatter if he laid his cursed hands on another fragile soul.

Beside him, just a few bodies over, Charlie heard whimpering. He turned his head to see a man with many wounds across his stomach. Blood poured out of his mouth and his eyes became bloodshot as he cried out for his mother. He wore blue clothing which told him everything he needed to know about him: an enemy to his country. Observing him and his innocent manner, Charlie could depict him to be maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. The boy saw Charlie and the two of the soldiers simply stared at one another. It felt as a lifetime had passed before the boy finally spoke:

“Please… just end it. End my suffering…”

Charlie played with the trigger on his rifle. He’s had enough of the killing. No more blood on his hands… but would it really be a kill if the victim was begging you to do it?

And so, Charlie stood on his weakened limbs as he slowly glided over to the boy’s dying vessel. He took his rifle, pointing right at the head. As he was making sure he would hit, the boy began to pray silently in a language he did not understand.

Charlie faced the young boy’s innocence, stared at it directly in the eye, and stripped it from its body. Even after the gunshot, he was still alive. With his last, few remaining seconds of life, he lied there with an expression of terror frozen across his face. Charlie stood there with the rifle in his hands as he watched the blood dripping off his face and onto the grass stained with the remains of those before him and the boy. The two soldiers just stared at one another. Charlie felt the last bit of life he had left inside fleeting away fromh is vessel here on Earth and passed onto a new life somewhere far away from here… because of Charile.

Today was the first time Charlie had killed… and yet this one moment would forever leave a mark on his mind.