Fiesty

MARCO

I stumbled into an empty McDonald's and slumped into a booth near the door. Rotten food lay scattered on the floor. Blood was splattered all over the walls. The smell of decay was all around.

I carefully took the mask I was wearing off.

My chest rapidly moved up and down, my breathing was shallow as I rested my head against the cold leather behind me. 

I tiredly rested a hand on my chest. 

My aching chest. 

The pain from my bullet wound made me break out into a fever. The wound's not infected, I've been monitoring it. 

Even though I was not fully conscious I knew that this pain was only temporary. 

Two days ago I was shot in the chest. I received the medical treatment I needed and left right after.

I have given up on my soldiers. 

I have given up on my father and what he believed in. 

I gave up on my sister a long time ago. She was a coward and she left me alone with the wrath of our father.