Sunny slowly stood up, looking at the man who was still laying on the floor, his eyes cast downward in despair. Sunny let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over him. "What a life we're living," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
As he turned to walk away, he heard a voice coming from the corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest. "Military?" the voice asked, the tone low and cautious.
Sunny was stunned. He turned to the direction of the voice, his eyes scanning the darkness. As he walked forward, his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he was able to see the figure quite clearly.
The man was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his black hair messy and unkempt. He looked to be around forty years old, with a rugged, weathered face. His eyes were narrowed, watching Sunny with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
Sunny's instincts told him to be cautious, but his curiosity got the better of him. He took another step forward, his eyes locked on the stranger. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice firm but polite.
The stranger didn't respond, at least not right away. He just kept watching Sunny, his eyes searching for something. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "My name is Marcus," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "And you are...?"
"Captain Wilson," Sunny replied, looking at the man cautiously. He couldn't help but wonder how Marcus had guessed that he was in the military without him wearing his uniform. If Marcus could make that connection, then he couldn't be an ordinary civilian.
Sunny's eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "Are you ex-military?" He was trying to gauge Marcus's background, to understand what made him tick.
Marcus answered with a shrug, a noncommittal gesture that didn't reveal much. "Kind of," he said, his voice low and ambiguous.
Sunny raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Marcus's cryptic response. He sensed that there was more to Marcus's story, that he was hiding something.
Marcus's head then dropped, hiding his facial features. He seemed to be overcome with emotion, and Sunny could sense a deep sadness emanating from him.
Then, something like a whisper came from Marcus's mouth. "I ran away... I left them to die."
Sunny looked at him strangely . He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Who did you leave to die?" he asked, his voice firm but gentle.
Marcus looked up at Sunny, his eyes haunted by ghosts. "You want to know?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sunny nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He sensed that Marcus was about to reveal a dark secret, something that had been weighing on his conscience for a long time.
Marcus then sat beside Sunny on the dusty floor, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "I was a soldier," he began, his voice low and husky. "I was leading a unit that was ambushed by the enemy. We were outnumbered, outgunned... we didn't stand a chance."
Marcus paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I ran away, Sunny. I left my comrades to die. I was scared, I was panicked... I didn't know what else to do."
"I don't understand," Sunny said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "You were in charge of your men, how did you leave them? Wasn't your mission planned beforehand?"
Marcus shook his head, his eyes clouding over with memories. "I led a unit of soldiers for an attack operation on our enemy's hideout," he began, his voice low and measured. "The mission was carefully planned by our commander. We had reconnaissance, we had intel, we had a solid plan. What could possibly go wrong?"
Marcus paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "What we didn't know was that the enemy had anticipated our arrival. It was all a trap. They had set up an ambush, and we walked right into it."
Marcus's voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes welling up with tears. "We were outgunned, outmanned, and outmaneuvered. I still don't know how I survived. It was chaos, pure chaos. I remember hearing the sound of gunfire, the screams of my men... it's a sound that's etched into my memory forever."
Marcus's body shook as he spoke, his emotions raw and exposed. Sunny just watched him, not letting his emotions show a bit. He could imagine what Marcus had gone through, the guilt and shame that he must be carrying.
"I tried to rally my men, to fight back," Marcus continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was too late. They were falling all around me, and I... I just ran. I ran for my life, leaving my men behind."
"I remember dropping my gun and running away like a coward," Marcus said, his voice heavy with shame and regret. "I had always been taught to stand and fight, to never leave my men behind. But in that moment, I just wanted to survive. I wanted to get out of there, to escape the hell that was unfolding around me."
Sunny nodded his head, trying to understand the situation that Marcus had been in. He knew that it was impossible to truly comprehend the fear and panic that Marcus must have felt, but he was trying to be empathetic. He could barely imagine the situation to make a soldier drop his rifle, they were taught to protect their rifle with their lives.
"I woke up one day, after being unconscious for who knows how long," Marcus continued. "And I pulled off my uniform, throwing it away. I didn't want to be identified as a soldier, I didn't want to be brought back to my camp. I wanted it to be as if I had died with my men."
Marcus's voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes welling up with tears. "I really wanted to die with them," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I felt so ashamed, so guilty for leaving them behind."
Sunny nodded his head again, trying to offer what little comfort he could. "What's your rank, Marcus?" he asked.
Marcus raised his head, looking at Sunny with a mixture of shame and regret. "I was a sergeant," he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. "I'm so ashamed," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so ashamed of what I did."
"Aren't you afraid I'll report you and you'd be court-martialed?" Sunny asked, his eyes locked on Marcus's.
Marcus raised his head, looking at Sunny with a mixture of resignation and desperation. "It's your choice, Captain Wilson," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired. I'm so tired."
Marcus's words were laced with a deep sense of exhaustion, a sense of being drained of all energy and willpower. Sunny could see the toll that the war had taken on Marcus, the way it had worn him down and left him feeling empty and hollow.