[Warning: Blood and gore to some extent. Dark content. Read at your own discretion.]
'Crippling, crippling, crippling. These people in front of me are crippling. What did I do to them?' Nancy read with a troubled expression.
What. The. Fuck?
'No matter how easy I try to make it for them, they seem to get hurt and despise me eventually.
All I did was shoot them. All I did was to show their blood to my Sir. All I did was to follow orders.
Then why must they despise me?
I did not do anything.
I did not wish to do anything.
If I could just lay there and shut my mouth for eternity, then maybe my Sir would have mercy on me.
But I cannot, for I must tend to my duties. As long as I live. As long as I breathe. As long as I exist.
Their blood is splattering on these grounds as I sit across the fields to write these few words to keep my sanity. However, I am not sure if this is helping, as all I can hear are screams. All I can see is blood. All I can do is…'
The rest of the page was covered with blood yet again, making the words hardly readable.
Nancy was confused and scared of the written words, yet she turned around the page to read more. Her curiosity always seemed to win.
'I cannot forget him. I cannot forget him. I must not forget him.'
She recalled that the journal's cover said, 'Do not forget Private Joshua.' So, she guessed maybe this page was about him.
'These people… These screams... They want me to forget about him. But I cannot. I must not. I must not. I must not…'
The entire page was covered with a repetitive, 'I must not.'
Nancy skipped it all and turned to another page.
'Another day away from camp. I received Sir Bradley's provided MRE. I do not know what to do with it. Shall I throw it down the stream? Or force it down my throat?
I have loaded all my weapons for the night. Is it okay to eat now? I have been sitting here for a while now. I do not think anyone can even spot someone as little as me.
If only I could shrink down to atoms.
I hear something.'
Nancy raised an eyebrow at his unusual writing.
'I hear someone closing in. However, I cannot look away from this page. I cannot move my sight even by an inch. I cannot move my hands away, either.
I do not wish to keep writing. Yet my hand does not stop. Someone is standing near me. Yet my hand does not stop. He is wearing the outfit I was told to kill or avoid. Yet my hand does not stop. He is pointing his rifle at me. Yet my hand does not stop. It keeps writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing..'
Nancy closed the journal shut. She took heavy breaths to reclaim her sanity. What the hell was she reading?
She opened the same page to notice the rest covered with splashes of blood anyway.
She could imagine him writing while an enemy approached him and shot him, but his hand couldn't stop writing.
The frustrated distorted lines across the bottom of the page showed his eagerness to fly away from despair.
She did understand that this journal was probably written on a battlefield. And she did understand that he was a military soldier.
She also confirmed the relationship between Samuel and Bradley, subordinate and superior.
Nonetheless, whatever she read in the journal was creepy and strange. She didn't expect Samuel to have written something like that.
{Health Status: Critical.}
Her system shot up once she looked at Samuel's troubled expression as he was still asleep.
{Problem: Thoracic Injury.}
She narrowed her eyes, closing in to check on him according to the system.
{Probability of Survival: 8%}
She anxiously grabbed the corner of his blanket to remove it, in an attempt to reveal the thoracic wound. He suddenly gasped and sat upright, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, but he failed to notice Nancy. Did he see a nightmare?
Nancy subconsciously leaned in to hug him, trying to comfort him.
"I apologize," He spoke in between his heavy breaths. "I have committed a grave sin, Sir. Punish me, for I deserve the most painful death." He uttered in a painful voice.
"Samuel!" Nancy called him to have him snap back to reality. "Shh, shh, It's okay." She wrapped her arms around him tighter before slowly caressing his nape.
All subconsciously, before he uttered a word.
"Nancy?" Samuel muttered after finally snapping back to reality. "Am I still in a dream?"
The unusual sight made him question reality, and Nancy nervously backed off.
Her face turned red at the thought. She just hugged him subconsciously.
{Probability of survival: 30%}
Shit! There was no time to daydream about the actions she had already done. She remembered her system picked out an injury.
"Samuel, are you hurt?" Nancy asked.
{Problem: Thoracic Wound. Requires medical attention.}
Samuel was still unsure of what was happening.
"How come you have appeared at my house?" Samuel asked, ignoring her question. "And at such an hour? Are your parents aware?"
He was bombarding questions at her after her system told her strange things.
Nancy was irritated enough to break his neck, but she kept her composure.
"Listen here, you little shit, the system is saying you're hurt. And that's what I asked you. Only I ask the questions here." Nancy clarified before jumping onto the bed, an inch apart from him, as she ran her hand from his shirt's collar to the first button.
Who wears dress shirts in bed?
Before Nancy could unbutton his shirt, he grabbed her hand with a frown on his face.
"I do not know what your system told you, but I must clarify that I am not hurt," Samuel said before moving her hand aside.
"Prove it, then," Nancy muttered. "The system says it's a thoracic injury. Show me that it's not."
"Even if there is one, I believe you have nothing to do with it." Samuel backfired.
Right. Nancy had nothing to do with his matters. But she was dying to remove that shirt from him. No, no! Not for any other business. She just needed to see if the gunshot wound was still there or not.
"Which means there is a wound," Nancy said, trying to sound unfazed by his words. "I'll help you treat it."
She stood up before walking over to the nightstand opposite them to get the first-aid kit. He watched her with narrowed vision, and she stared back from the corner of her eye.
{Probability of survival : 50%... 60%... 65%}
{The Wound shows signs of healing. Abnormalities detected.}
{Platelet count: Normal.}
{Platelet function: Faster than normal.}
The system kept raising abnormalities from Samuel as if the system could've never guessed for such an existence. It made Nancy wonder, too.
She was sure he was another invention. One way, or another… He was involved.