He used to be my Best Friend

He used to be my best friend

I can smell the smoke of gunpowder and cement debris as I walk through the bombarded palace. Glass shards, debris, and broken picture frames, with luxurious linens, are torn to pieces and lit on fire. I went up the shattered-looking stairs, with a bomb, that had sunk in the wood, that had not exploded yet; it was not something that mattered as I had something else in mind, something more important. I walk down the hallway of the second floor towards the open door, that leads to the balcony, the wind, full of dust brushes against my uniform, lifting the hem of my coat. On the other side of the open door, on the balcony, lay a body, leaning against the pillar, his uniform drenched in blood. It was someone I once called brother, a best friend who had lost his way when power entered and corrupted his mind.

I stood right in front of him, silence and winds filled between us before he looked up to me. He was in pain, he was missing an arm and groaned in pain at the lowest volume he could, trying to show no weakness, he had a bullet hole in his leg, and the sight of him was pitiful. I wanted to help him, I wanted to help the one I once called brother, my best friend, but after all he has done, all the people he killed in the name of his righteousness, I can't help him, justice must be done for the people he made suffer, he must pay for his actions. "You seem to be hesitating, friend, I can direct your hand to your gun with my hands, with my hands, if you don't know the direction to it", he said before he coughed out blood as he wanted to laugh.

"Your humor has not left you, I see", I retorted

"What....can I say, we smile till the end, brother".

The way he said brother, made me go back in time. It was like I lived through the happy moments with him again. I could not hold it in, the tears, like a river flowed down my cheek. Why have I felt like this for an enemy? He killed so many people, innocent civilians with his armies and I had to put a stop to him, but why do I still see him as a brother?

"I understand, old friend", he said, "and I respect your decision, I am glad that it is by your hand that you put a stop to my madness and put the world at ease".

I looked at him. He had lost his mind but I know that he had not completely lost it. I pulled out my pistol and pointed it at him. "Look, my hand did know the direction of my gun", I say as more tears flow down my cheek and I try to force in a chuckle.

He then looked at me with a smirk and groaned as he was about to laugh, "Just end me please, this shit hurts", he said playfully before becoming serious and giving me a slight nod, "you are doing the right thing, friend".

My tears were endless. I closed my eyes and looked to the side and ... BANG.

"Goodbye, brother".