[Trigger Warning: Blood and gore to some extent, please read at your own discretion.]
Shivering in blood on the cold, desolated floor, this child bled. He bled for hours and hours, but still not enough to bleed his life out. Why? Why did he have to suffer with this pain?
"Sir!" A soldier saluted. "Shall we take the kid to Dr. Billy, Sir?" He vigorously asked.
"No," Bradley muttered. "Leave him be, let him bleed. I like the color of his blood."
The soldiers had no choice but to oblige. They left Samuel shivering on the ground as he tried his best to die, yet in vain.
How could dying be so impossible?!
Was it always like that? Was dying always hard? Why was he still breathing despite all the blood he lost?
Bradley quietly stared at the child as he bled out. Not a single soldier dared to peek and look. What belonged to Bradley only belonged to Bradley.
