Her father was a soldier. The thing had been rampaging through a city, had probably killed or would kill a whole lot of people. She understood the math here.
And yet she still wanted to think there could have been another way.
Thing's dead. How much more dead to we have to make it?
She fired the last missiles.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status