(John Mckinley—> John Crane.)
The sight in front of him was horrible, to say the least, a mess was more accurate. A bullet had passed through Luna's head and left a clear hole.
Her face was left barely recognizable and her blood flowed in every direction.
"Fuck! She's dead!" John said as he held up her cold unmoving body, unlike him she would not rise after death, unlike him she would no longer have hopes and dreams, she was now simply a corpse.
John's tears flowed out, his mind was filled with endless dread as he thought of Luna, her body that had just been warm in his embrace was now a cold husk of nothingness.
He grit his teeth and picked up her body.
"Arthur…" He was filled with extreme rage as he left the village house's ruins.
Outside, the sky was dark, and heavy rain fell as a storm brewed. The heavens appeared to be weeping as the drops descended and lightning struck.
