The sun is setting on the battlefield, the red and golden light merges with the river of blood spreading on the ground. The sound of screams and the creaking of armor echoes around me. My sword clashes with soft flesh, warm blood wets my armor. I have no time to see the face of the enemy, only to kill. Again, I do the only thing I know how to do well, I choose the enemy, I thrust my sword through their heart, I choose, I kill, I choose, I kill. On the battlefield it's kill or be killed, that's how I was trained. This is what I do, this is who I am.

A voice echoes in my mind as another body falls to the ground. I feel confused, my actions seem to not match my feelings. The voice whispers louder, distracting me and causing a cut on my arm. Blood flows from the wound, but I feel no pain. I cut the throat of the person responsible, but my mind is in conflict. The voice speaks even louder, a soft voice but one that doesn't hide the criticism and hatred. "No, don't do this anymore," it says.

• Why? If I stop, I will die.

My life is important, I love killing. I've been doing it forever. I feel empty, but I can't stop. "No, you haven't," says the voice.

• What do you mean? I've always fought, always waged war, always killed. "Remember...", she says. I try to remember, but my mind is foggy.

Suddenly, my eyes fix on a soldier kneeling at my feet. He looks at me with scared eyes, like those of a child who is afraid of the dark or a girl who is afraid of being alone. I've seen those eyes before, but I can't understand why. My mind, numb until now, suddenly clears, as if the stormy sky had opened up to the scorching sun of summer.

I realize that the soldier is not a soldier, but a woman. Her hair grows to her shoulders, her skin smooth and with the brown tone of someone who has lived a long time under the sun. Her mouth is open, half-screaming, her lips dry and rough, a look of shock on her face. I am paralyzed, not knowing what to do, surprise and shock leaving me without reaction.

The battlefield becomes silent. The war is over, but I still smell the blood in the air. I look around and see my comrades, bathed in blood, with disfigured bodies scattered across the ground. Something has changed, the bodies are no longer in armor, the soldiers we were fighting are no longer there. In their place are common villagers, men, women, even children. My comrades' eyes are blank as if they are not seeing the same scene as I. I do not understand what is happening. My memories are slowly coming back and my emotions are becoming more intense.

I remember arriving at the base of a mountain in the morning, and finding the enemy camp poorly guarded. We took advantage of their carelessness to launch a surprise attack, but this place is not the enemy camp. It's just a simple village. The huts around are in flames, most of them are already ashes. That village, that place. I feel sick, my mind trying to process what I'm seeing.

My superior approaches the girl at my feet, I feel my body tense, something is not right. He holds the girl's chin and makes her look at him. I notice his hand sliding to one of her breasts. He smiles, as if approving a product. I know what he's thinking, I've seen him do this before, but now it's different. Inside my head, something breaks and grows, as if a flame that had only been embers, had new fuel to burn. I feel a wave of hatred pass through me. Before he can do anything else, I cut his throat. His head rolls on the ground among the fallen bodies. The girl looks at me with fear, I hear murmurs of "traitor" coming from my companions. I don't want to look back.

I take my sister in my arms and run into the woods.