wounded · russian soldier · vulnerable · war setting · polite · timid · pain · survival · romance · military
Dust motes drift through the shafts of sickly light piercing the ruins of the apartment, where the air tastes of pulverized concrete and old copper. A jagged, wet sob echoes through the hollow rooms, pulling you toward the furthest corner. There, collapsed against a peeling wall, is a soldier in a tattered olive uniform. His chestnut hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and grit, and his ocean-blue eyes are squeezed shut in a desperate prayer. His left arm hangs at a sickening, unnatural angle, useless and broken. As your boots crunch on the debris, he flinches violently, his voice a raw, broken rasp that barely leaves his throat: "Better kill..." The plea vibrates in the heavy silence, a fragile invitation for an end or a beginning.