Her smile still shone in his memory like some distant, flickering star; only it seemed more and more to be hidden by the dark clouds that were the torment wracking his mind. He could still hear her screaming in his mind, the sound of her cracking voice as her body had been ravaged in the room just beyond the wall next to him. Though his tears had passed, he could still feel their moisture. He still remembered the sound of the gunshot, though in his mind it seemed hollow and surreal. In a matter of minutes, everything had changed. Now, around him, three men stood with rifles, another entered, zipping his pants, his rifle strapped across his shoulder. He could picture the magazine, now one round lighter.
It seemed that only days ago he had been a simple miner wanting nothing more than a better paycheck, nothing more than the ability to know that, should he die in the mines, his wife would be compensated. He had voiced his concerns, and been ignored. He had been foolish to be persuaded by socialism, to listen to that weasel of a coworker, who like a demon had implanted the seed of dissent in his mind.
Now, for his crime, his wifes only compensation was rape and murder. The soldiers looked down on him with cruel smiles. The walls that had for so long given him the pleasurable sense of safety and comfort now, too, stared down upon him without remorse. He was alone in this world. He could see the broken bodies of his children. His daughter of eight years, now half naked and bloody, ravaged by two of the men before him, had called out his name before they had choked the life out of her. His son, legs broken and fingers blown off by bullets, had barely lived for five years. Socialism, the bane of his existence, had caused this. Socialism had never given him anything. He had only two things to blame for his torment, himself, and socialism. One of the soldiers raised the barrel of his rifle up to his chest, but he did not hear the gunshot. His ears were full of the suffering of his family. He did not feel the burning lead, for his body felt nothing but remorse. He did not cry out in pain, he had no more tears to shed. He could see the gun burst more, but again, he felt no pain.
His lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground, and the soldiers cleared the home of it's valuables before torching it. The neighbors were told that he had resisted arrest and slaughtered his family, and that he had been a traitor to his job, his family, and his country, and that he had been punished. No one would remember him for the man he was, instead a lie was fabricated that told a different story. He was not alone in his fate, though, the Empire continued a never ending purge of it's people for their affiliations with supposed seditious elements of society. The government would not rest so long as some people doubted their happiness.
It seemed that only days ago he had been a simple miner wanting nothing more than a better paycheck, nothing more than the ability to know that, should he die in the mines, his wife would be compensated. He had voiced his concerns, and been ignored. He had been foolish to be persuaded by socialism, to listen to that weasel of a coworker, who like a demon had implanted the seed of dissent in his mind.
Now, for his crime, his wifes only compensation was rape and murder. The soldiers looked down on him with cruel smiles. The walls that had for so long given him the pleasurable sense of safety and comfort now, too, stared down upon him without remorse. He was alone in this world. He could see the broken bodies of his children. His daughter of eight years, now half naked and bloody, ravaged by two of the men before him, had called out his name before they had choked the life out of her. His son, legs broken and fingers blown off by bullets, had barely lived for five years. Socialism, the bane of his existence, had caused this. Socialism had never given him anything. He had only two things to blame for his torment, himself, and socialism. One of the soldiers raised the barrel of his rifle up to his chest, but he did not hear the gunshot. His ears were full of the suffering of his family. He did not feel the burning lead, for his body felt nothing but remorse. He did not cry out in pain, he had no more tears to shed. He could see the gun burst more, but again, he felt no pain.
His lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground, and the soldiers cleared the home of it's valuables before torching it. The neighbors were told that he had resisted arrest and slaughtered his family, and that he had been a traitor to his job, his family, and his country, and that he had been punished. No one would remember him for the man he was, instead a lie was fabricated that told a different story. He was not alone in his fate, though, the Empire continued a never ending purge of it's people for their affiliations with supposed seditious elements of society. The government would not rest so long as some people doubted their happiness.