He turned to the fire, it’s blinding light hurt him but he couldn’t bear to look at the bodies anymore. He could leave. Sell whatever he could carry and live a life like the one he used to have. He could run away.

But he couldn’t run away from himself. He’d have to carry it and every time we walked around a group of soldiers, he’d remember. He’d hear the screams, he’d see the camp, he’d smell the meat and rot that filled the night. The big man reached for his sword and took it out of the scabbard. The blade was like a mirror in the fire’s light and he saw the shame in his eyes. But that would soon be gone. He would see nothing more.

Lesh looked at the big soldier, holding the blade. He waited for him to do the final deed. He waited for him to take his life. This burden is too much for someone like him to carry. How would he do it? Will he have the strength to stick it in his gut? Will he slit his throat? Will he bury it in the ground and fall on the blade, letting his body’s weight do the deed?

The soldier kept staring at the sword and Lesh leaned closer and closer. Then the big man, put the tip of the blade in the fire and held it until it turned white.

“What are you doing?” - Lesh whispered to himself

He pulled the blade looked at it again, then turned it and pierced one of his eyes.

“What the…” - Lesh said

He pulled out the searing blade, then stuck it in his other eye socket, blinding himself.

Most men would find this pain unbearable. They’d scream and swear, roll on the ground and hold their heads in hands. But to the big soldier it was a relief for he’d no longer see the eyes of his brothers. He didn’t utter a single sound, just a sigh of relief as he dropped the sword on the ground. He crumbled to his knees and smoke rose form the burnt wounds where his eyes were.

Darkness at last.