It's the 19th of November 08, my birthday.
I'm sitting in a cellar, somewhere in North Dakota, I think. I normally don't give myself time to sit and relax, but, I found some paper and a pencil and I figured that writing a little bit would be my gift for the year.
To anyone who finds this. I just want you to know that, I tried. I tried so damn hard to do the right thing. But morals get pretty skewed when you live in times like these.
I shot a kid three days ago, she was maybe ten. Even when I was posted in Darfur I never had to shoot a kid, but here, in the U.S. I had to shoot a kid. You go to a special place in hell for that.
She came running out from beneath a car on the highway. I hadn't even thought of it, I just raised my weapon and fired. I had done it so many times now that it had become a dangerous habit.
I knew something was wrong when the kid fell to the ground, screaming in pain. They, (and you know who/what I'm talking about) don't writhe in pain.
I ran to her, slung my weapon and knelt down. There was so much blood. I took a bandage and packed the exit wound, she had fallen unconscious from blood loss or the pain by then. I packed it until I couldn't fit any more packing in, and then I wrapped an Israeli bandage around her thigh and hefted her on my shoulder and got the hell out of dodge.
She came to, a few hours later. The bleeding had stopped, but I had doomed her. Even in the shit, in Afghanistan, when a guy was hit, we knew he'd need surgery to live. We did what we were trained to do and we'd pack that wound so full of gauze that the devils fingernail couldn't fit in there. It worked in Afghanistan, where they'd get a black hawk ride to KAF and then a plane ride to Germany and a few hours in the E.R, a new lease on life. It didn't work in North Dakota, after the end of the world.
I couldn't take the gauze out, 'cause it would just bleed again. I'd be ripping out all the coagulated blood along with the packing.
I couldn't just sew her up, even if I knew how, she'd need anti-biotics and who knows what else.
I couldn't keep her with me, because ultimately she'd just slow me down.
Three days ago.
I shot a kid twice.
and I will never forgive myself.
Happy birthday, you're just another monster.