Caesar had thought of giving up and just dying there, but somehow he still wanted to live. For fourteen years of his life, he'd endured pain. It would be pathetic to give up on his life now.
So, he got up on one leg and began to stagger, trying to run for his life. But it wasn't enough because they had shot his other leg, leaving him to drop to the ground in agony.
Caesar cried, his hands clenching the ball of snow in his grip. Still, he crawled, pushing himself to escape.
However, the men weren't done. They shot him a few more times, one in the stomach and the other on his arm.
The snow was tainted with his blood, and Adeline, who was watching, had begun crying in unbearable pain.
This was cruel. How could they make her watch but prevent her from helping him? It was torture—one that was scarring her.
