I heard the distinctive sound of a head shot. “Got ‘em” I said, as I ducked behind a rock. I could feel the high velocity bullets wiz by me leaving a visible trail through the hot afternoon air. I turned cautiously, let off a few shots and heard the blood curtailing screams from one of them. As crimson liquid gushed from his fresh wounds, I darted from sidewalk to sidewalk to avoid being hit. The second I took cover, I noticed one of them pathetically hiding behind a car. I snuck up, and with a flick of the wrist, slit his throat. As I turned to get my sights on the last man, a bullet grazed my arm. I grimaced and immediately felt another rush of adrenaline pump through my veins. While looking him dead in the eye, I pulled the trigger. “Click, Click”, “I’m out”. Just then, another rogue bullet sunk into my gut. With the air violently taken from my lungs and the blood flowing freely, my vision faded and the world went dark.

I woke up in a concrete cell with my injuries freshly bandaged. I noticed a lady in a recently iron suit carrying a briefcase waltz in. “Where am I?! What happened?! Let me out!” I yelled frantically as she approached me. In an apathetic and monotone voice, she almost mocked me. “Oh, you don’t remember? Sounds like an insanity plea.” With blood rushing to my face, I asked again. “What happened?” “You slaughtered three innocent people waiting for the bus. If the undercover police officer hadn’t been there you would finished the whole block of people off.” “Why…?” I asked. “You suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and dementia. You had an episode.” I stood there is silence, guilt enveloping me, tears flowing down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and waited for this nightmare to end. Then I could see once again the war torn battle field and the enemy all around me.