Leaving for war was not a choice. I had to leave. I had to go to war. It was the only way I could finally die in peace. I said goodbye to my family and friends. I hugged my soon to be wife tight. I told them I loved them and that I would never forget them. Death had never seem so beautiful, so peaceful. I marched towards the battle lines, ready to meet my fate. The enemy was upon us in an instant, and the battle was fierce. I fought with all my might, but I was outnumbered and outmatched. I was surrounded by enemies, and there was no way out. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. And then, it was over. I had died in battle, just as I had wanted. But even in death, I could not find peace. My soul was tormented by the things I had done back home. The screams of the Mary, the smell of blood and death, they all haunted me. I was trapped in my own personal hell, forever cursed to relive the horrors of war.