When Dylan said I was bleeding bad, he wasn’t kidding. I was covered in blood. We crashed very badly. Ernest took the blame, but I didn’t care who did it. I just wanted to live. I told Ernest a thousand times that I accepted his apology, but he kept apologizing over and over again.

“Do you really forgive me?” he asked.

“Yes!” I said for the thousandth time. Ernest walked away with a depressed face. Maybe I spoke too harsh on him.

“Sorry that I spoke too harshly, but I really do accept your apology,” I said. Ernest didn’t say anything, but he smiled and walked away. He came back with paper towels to wipe off the blood.

“Here you go. You can wipe off the blood with these,” he said, stating the obvious. 

When Rob died, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t cry nor scream. I didn’t even look at the body lying there. I felt empty. Rob was like a father figure for us even though we spent very little time with him. I just stared off tears welling up in my eyes. I just looked away. 

I stayed awake that night thinking about Rob. I wasn’t upset because he died, but because I didn’t feel sad about the fact that he was gone. I didn’t feel hurt nor emotion. 

The next day, we found an abandoned car near us and went to the place where Rob died and found his body. That made me cry. 

Rob had some burnt skin. He was bloody, very bloody. We found the crow’s dead body. Its talons were soaked in blood that was probably Rob’s. Rob had giant claw marks in his chest.

He was covered in cuts. Other bodies of soldiers were everywhere. We carried Rob’s body and buried him. He will never be forgotten.