Per aspera ad astra, Papa,' I whispered. Through hardship to the stars.
Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, my brother's was worth a pocket watch.
Killers aren't always assassins. Sometimes, they don't even have blood on their hands.
War had bled color from everything, leaving nothing but a storm of gray.
What had human beings become? Did war make us evil or just activate an evil already lurking within us?