Burden of someone's death.
A lifeless figure lay sprawled on the ground, its limbs intact to the torso, but the head was a few feet away from where it was supposed to be.
I looked at the head of a dead bandit; the scarf still covered his face, and the eyes stared blankly ahead, void of all emotion. A pool of dark crimson surrounded the body, evidence of the fatal wound that had claimed its life.
The scene was eerily silent, or maybe it was just me whose world had stopped,save for the distant sound of fighting. As someone arrived and began tapping on my shoulders.
"Hey, don't space out in the middle of battle." Henry said, He rushed to my side immediately after he killed the bandit.
"You killed him? Why?" I asked,"It's not like us; we don't kill people."
"Look over there; what do you see?" Henry points his finger over my shoulder to make me look back, and I turn my vision.