Mercenary's Diary

That’s how life sometimes goes: you have everything—everything you need for happiness. And in an instant, it disappears. It all turns to dust. Everything you believed in, everything you lived for—gone. And there’s only emptiness burning from the inside; there’s no meaning to life.
I’m not even talking about the catastrophe that thundered a few years ago. I mean the kind of catastrophe that can happen to each person in their own world.

That’s what happened to me. Abandoned and betrayed, bleeding, I crawled. I crawled on stubbornly, clinging to life. Even in spite of that emptiness that completely destroys the thirst for life, I still crawled.

Heavy rain fell in big drops from low-hanging leaden clouds over the outskirts of old St. Petersburg. At least the sky helped me in some way—by erasing the traces through which predators might follow me. And the wind… there was none. The smell of fresh blood didn’t spread around, warning scavengers of a good, satisfying meal. And that gave me a little hope—small, but still enough to grab onto.

Do I want to live, so I can take revenge? Probably not. Then what would I be better than those who threw me here?

So what is your goal, you ask!? Why are you clinging to life? Accept it and die—you’re not here to last!
Well, screw you! I just want to live!