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The rage

He hated all of them. Without a reason, or with all the reason in the world. He didn’t see people, only abhorrent monsters that stalked him. To kill or be killed: that was everything. And, because of that, time and time again, he shot, reloaded, shot…

The magazines fell swiftly to the ground. He saw himself as a videogame character: absolutely immortal, capable of advancing through a plethora of enemies and restarting at any given moment.

He heard a voice that said: “They’re civilians, stop it already. Don’t keep going”. But the noise from the gunshots and the gunpowder smell blinded him. He could only stop when a sharp pain on the back left him unable to move.

– I’m sorry private, I had to do it. They were innocent.
– Nobody is innocent. – Then, he stopped thinking.



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