Chapter Sixteen: It wasn't a question of being happy or unhappy. I didn't want to be me anymore

RIVAILLE

The darkness was seen as the last light of one who had suffered everything from his existence. The vision fogged with rage, the breath of tension, the legs that held that uncomfortable situation in an absurd and uncontrollable way. There was no way this was going to happen to me. To us. It wasn't possible that the feeling of guilt, of having pushed her off the roof, was eating up to and into my bones. What kind of man was I? What kind of man was I going to become for a possible future without blood and wars? Had it really been the only way to make things easier and less complicated than they already were? I kept telling myself who I was doing this for, because it was certainly not possible that I had not found a more logical solution of reacting on impulse.