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Aran

Finian O'Sullivan - 'Remembering the bad times'

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Day 240: 'Remembering the bad times'

I awake to the sound of the dead in the town below. I briefly gaze upon the town, focusing my wearied eyes on the supermarket being surrounded by hordes of the infected. Some screams and the horde starts flowing inside. I turn over on my improvised bed, so my back is facing the town. My rifle up against the tree along with my rucksack and my engraved hunting knife beneath my jacket-made pillow. I inhale sharply and let out a sigh. Things had changed for me a lot in the last few weeks. I abandoned my only family behind and vowed vengeance against them for their nefarious deeds. It's unpleasant to imagine that I was apart of them for so long. It must've been the hole in my head that made me start thinking straight. Ironic. I reach for my jeans pocket and pull out three worn down pictures. They're of me from before. I try remembering those days through these pictures, but it's blurry. It feels imaginary. For all I know it isn't real.

I often wonder if this genuinely is me. It feels so foreign, so bizarre to the person I am today. I think it's apparent that I'm not this person anymore. But for some weird reason, I'm okay with that. I don't envy the past. I may have a bullet in my head, but it makes me who I am and I wouldn't give that up for anyone. One particular thought enters my mind when I look at this picture. 'I was complacent'. That thought has been haunting me for weeks. I was their lap dog, their toy soldier. It was evident the sole thing they required me for was killing. It is my specialty I suppose. I've gotten so used to it that I don't keep track anymore, the rifle I used then has been lost to the new world. 

 

My finger inches under the picture and moves it aside to reveal the second picture. I loved this outfit. That was self-evident. Its so long ago that I barely remember if this was taken on the same day. It must've been I guess. Strange. I look content, I don't remember ever being a happy person. I'll only be happy again once this is all finished and over. I'm indeed lying to myself. I say happy but who can happy in this place? In reality, is anyone ever happy? We all experience our moments but when has happiness ever mattered? Humans as a species strive for a purpose, it's the sole thing that makes our finite lives worth living. We are all alike in that regard. I thought my purpose was with them. Absolutely, the money was apart of my decision, but I invested nine years of my life following their ideals, their orders. 'Shadow...', 'Light...' 'Dima...', They're all going to die by my hand and mine alone. I heard of some others who defected, I must try to encounter them. I recall being caught scouting the prison out a week or so ago. It went well, despite me being a high priority target they didn't recognize me. At least right now I know the layout of their so-called fortress. Their weaknesses, their strengths, I possess all of it. Not only that but I can identify every key member they have at their disposal so being found out by them is impossible. 

 

I flick over to the last picture. Ah, yes. This one I recognize. Ironic how it's the unhappy photo that I remember. If I  recall correctly, I am remembering my days in Project LAZARUS and my upcoming assignment. Assassinating a dignitary in the United Kingdom. It was going to be difficult, but I had survived worse. I wonder if I still have that jumper somewhere in one of my stashes. Too far away for me to grab I suppose. All of my stashes were in high value locations, certainly not in Chernarus. This place is a shit hole of the highest kind. Once this is through, I need to seek some way out of here. I merely have to be careful, if they capture me and don't execute me then I'll be made theirs again and I can't do that anymore. When I said happy earlier, what I really meant was free. Freedom is what separates a person from a slave. I'm not being a slave anymore, not to them or anyone else. Not even to myself.

 

I fold the pictures over and place them back into my jeans pocket. I turn onto my back and lift myself up so I'm sitting. I let out a sigh, close my eyes briefly and reach for my rucksack and rifle. 'Time to get to work' I think to myself. Work? Work is damn right. This is going to be immensely difficult. When has that ever stopped me, though? Never. I stand up, gather my things and rifle and start slowly moving further into the woods towards the prison.

First image

Second image

3rd image

Edited by Aran
Pictures were messing with the text layout

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