I'm Sorry Rachel

They lied to me. They said that it would be glorious. They said that we’d be honorable. They said that our bayonet-equipped rifles and star-spangled uniforms symbolized pride. Who was he again? Oh, what does that matter? He’s dead now; that’s what he is. What the hell is that noise?

They told us that our actions were for the greater good. Greater good, my ass. What kind of good resulted from these bullets? The goodness of pain and death? Oh, Rachel, I’m so sorry. How do I tell someone that the man she married is a murderer? How does one live knowing the man she married is a murderer? The noise is getting unbearably loud. I can’t sleep. Oh, Rachel, be gracious, please understand. Please. It was for the best. Yeah. The greater good. Shit.

They ordered me to do it. I pulled the trigger because they told me to. I had no choice. I had to do it. But I pulled the trigger. Did I have a choice? Could I have turned around? No, that would have been treason. Someone had to die, whether it be him or me. Maybe I should have died. Maybe I should have reversed the rifle, pulled the trigger that way. I still have the rifle, don’t I? It sounds like crying. That noise. Oh, it’s getting louder. Oh no. My ears. I can’t take it anymore. Let me out.

Something’s wrong. There was too much blood. Why did they make us do this? Why me? Why did I have to shoot? This isn’t right. It was just a child. I can hear the mother wailing. Oh god. The mother is wailing so loud I can’t close my eyes or ears I can’t hear or see anything hell is so bright what have I done what have I done what have I done my hands are red. She is wailing wailing wailing screaming screaming screaming I’m so sorry Rachel.