Chapter one

Seth Daghishat (Dag-i-sha) had always been a fighter. As a child, he stood up to bullies and defended his friends. When he grew up, he joined the army and became a special forces soldier. He was deployed to Iraq, where he fought bravely and earned a reputation as one of the best soldiers in his unit. But when he returned home, something was different.

Seth sat alone in his dimly lit room, staring blankly at the wall. He had been trying to escape the memory that kept replaying in his mind, but it haunted him relentlessly. It was a typical day in the war-torn country of Iraq when Seth and his unit received a call for backup. They were told that a group of terrorists had taken control of a nearby village, and the local authorities were unable to handle the situation. Seth and his fellow soldiers knew that they were going into a dangerous situation, but they had no idea just how terrible it would be.

Seth's POV:

I remember vividly the transport of my platoon to our mission deep in Iraq. It was a hot and dusty day, and we were all anxious about what lay ahead. We were traveling by ground transport, which was a long and bumpy journey. As we loaded up into our armored Humvees, I checked my gear one more time. My rifle was loaded and ready, and my extra ammunition was secured. I looked around at my fellow soldiers, and we all shared a sense of determination and readiness.

As we started the journey, the sound of the engine and the rattling of the vehicle filled the air. We were all wearing our helmets and body armor, and I could feel the sweat running down my back from the blazing heat. The terrain was rocky and uneven, and we had to navigate carefully to avoid any potential hazards. As we traveled deeper into Iraq, the tension grew. We were on high alert, scanning our surroundings for any signs of danger. Our communication radios crackled with updates and reports, and we all listened carefully for any important information.

The journey was long, and we stopped several times to check our equipment and rest. Despite the challenges, we all remained focused and ready to complete our mission. We knew that we were part of a critical effort to keep our country safe and to support our fellow soldiers on the ground. If only we knew how wrong we were.

Finally, we arrived at our destination, and the feeling of relief and accomplishment washed over us. We had made it safely, and we were ready to carry out our mission with professionalism and dedication.

Narrator's POV:

When the platoon arrived at the village, they found a group of children armed with guns and knives. They were scared, hungry, and desperate. Seth and his unit knew that they had to act quickly to neutralize the situation, but they were not prepared for what happened next.

One of the child soldiers, a boy who couldn't have been more than ten years old, stepped forward and pulled what looked to be a detonator from the inside of his ragged cloak. Seth could see the fear in the boy's eyes, and he knew that the child was just doing what he had been forced to do. But he also knew that he couldn't hesitate. He had to protect himself and his unit.

Seth raised his rifle, took aim, and fired. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the village as the child soldier fell to the ground, lifeless. There was an eerie silence that hung in the air. Seth felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he realized what he had done. He had killed a child, a boy who should have been playing with toys, not guns.

As the memory played out in his head, He couldn't help but remember what had happened to the remaining soldiers in that village. Gunned down without hesitation. Seth knew that he would never forget that day, that moment when he was forced to take a child's life. It was a memory that would haunt him for the rest of his life, a reminder of the horrors of war and the toll it takes on those who fight it.

At first, Seth tried to hide the changes in himself from his family and friends. He was irritable and quick to anger, seemingly apathetic to his surroundings, and he had trouble sleeping. But soon, his behavior became more erratic. He became paranoid, convinced that someone was following him. He started carrying a gun everywhere he went, and he had trouble trusting anyone.

Seth's wife tried to get him help, but he refused to go to therapy. He didn't want to be seen as weak, and he didn't want to relive the horrors of his time in Iraq. As time went on, his mental state continued to deteriorate. He had vivid nightmares that left him shaking and sweating, and he started drinking heavily to numb the pain. Due to these factors, tensions grew between Seth and his family, increasing drastically, and culminating in a confrontation between Seth and his wife.

Seth's POV:

"Enough is enough! I'm sick and tired of your drinking! You promised me you'd stop, but you never do!" she screamed in my face with such anger and passion that it made me pause, but soon all I felt was anger. She didn't know what I had been through; what I'd done. In my anger, I couldn't stop myself from lashing out. "Who are you to tell me what to do, huh? You don't know me!" I bellowed out with equal if not greater anger, smashing the bottle in my hand against the counter, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces, and flinging glass and liquor into every corner of the small kitchen. "Of course, I know you, I am your wife!" she screamed back. But she didn't know; she would never understand. "You don't know what I've done! You don't know the horrors these hands have inflicted! Do you have any idea how many people I've killed?! How many lives I have single-handedly ruined?!" I screamed back, with emotions I had been suppressing for years.

*police sirens*

As the wail of sirens reached my ears, I dashed to my bedroom with my wife hot on my heels. "Where do you think you're going?! I'm not finished!" she screeched from behind me, but I paid her no mind. As I reached the bedroom, I swiftly moved to my nightstand and grabbed my handgun, cocking back the slide with practiced ease. *kichunk* Afterward, I pushed my wife out of my way and onto the floor as I stormed out of my house, now with police sirens ringing in my ears.

As I exited the front door, I was confronted by three officers. As soon as they saw what I held in my grasp, they quickly dashed behind their vehicles and pulled out their own handguns. "Put the weapon down and put your hands on your head!" the largest officer yelled, hoping I would comply while aiming their weapons toward me. "What are you gonna do, shoot me?! DO IT! SHOOT ME!" I roared out. But as they steadied their aim, my wife flowed out of the door, tears and snot streaming down her face like Niagara Falls. "No, don't! Please wait!" my wife shrieked. The officers staggered for a moment and looked towards the largest one for instructions.

"He doesn't know what he's doing; he's just scared! Seth, please, we love you; I love you!" she called out. But I knew that wasn't true; nobody could love a monster like me. And with that sobering realization, I looked towards the gun in my hands, and with newfound clarity, I placed it beneath my chin.

"SIR, PUT THE GUN DOWN!" the police yelled. "NO, SETH, PLEASE DON'T!" my wife shrieked. But it was too late, and as I squeezed my finger, the world went black.