Showing results for "the transformations" in Military

There are levels to survival. Things you swear you’ll never accept—until you do. Until you have to. Honor was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it? But honor doesn’t quiet the cries of a child in the dead of night. Justice doesn’t pay the bills piling up on the counter. Morality doesn’t patch together a home that’s already frayed at the edges. So, the lies were swallowed. The shame. The betrayal. The late nights filled with secrets and cold, hollow excuses. The chains of addiction that dragged everything further into the dark.

Imagine drowning in your own sadness, screaming silently into the void, but no one notices. No one hears. Not until the echo of the gunshot rips through the air, sharp and final. Only then do they stop, their laughter caught in their throats, their smiles fading. Only then do they look back, piecing together the fragments they ignored, whispering “Why didn’t we see it?”