Friday, April 23, 1937.

1848 Hours.

Forest.

The drumming returned.

It was faint, almost as an afterthought in the sleeping forest. A throbbing itch that went on and random and that you couldn't quite scratch. It almost robbed me of the fact that Lula was in front of me with her hand outstretched to greet me. My knees still weak enough to keep me pinned to the ground.

"I said," repeated Lula, "are you alright?"

A million things passed through my mind at that moment. About the sounds around me, and the demon Tuerto, and how Father Jagger had tried to kill me while also saving me--although I have to admit that Fatima's discarded corpse was not one of those things. It was only after seeing it a few meters away from us that I was reminded of the scene minutes before.

I couldn't let Lula see her. It was going to break her heart. Fortunately for me, Lula had her back to the corpse, and I intended it to keep it that way.

"I am fine, Lula," I said. "I just sprained my ankle."

She gave me a skeptical look. "Really? Then what were those shots I heard before?"

"I...found a deer in the woods," I said as I grabbed her hand.

"Really? A deer? That's very rare!" she said with a toothy smile. "I haven't had good meat in a while. We should hunt it down."

Lula began to turn away towards Fatima's body. It was imminent. I had to act, and fast.

Now, sometimes we have to do a necessary evil to avoid bigger damage. We might burn crops to avoid enemies taking advantage of them, or take control of hospitals to help wounded soldiers. What I was about to do was not as extreme as that, but it was for the greater good. To keep Lula safe.

Before she could make a complete turn, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards me. Her small body offered no resistance as I hugged her with all my strength.

"Sebas," she whispered into my chest. Her arms wrapped around me, or at least as far as she could.

"Let's go," I said.

She tugged at my jacket from behind. "What about Fatima? We can't return without her."

My throat got knotted up as I pondered what to do next. I couldn't let her see the body. I couldn't. I had to protect her. But how?

Lula began to squirm under my arms. "Sebas, let me go," she said in a calm voice.

I stood my ground.

"Seriously, Sebas," she said with a slight uptick in her voice. "Let me go!"

But I remained unmoving.

My mind raced back and forth about what to do. If I let her go, she was undoubtedly going to stumble upon Fatima. If I didn't, I would come as some kind of perverted fiend. This was a lose-lose situation.

Sometimes, we have to do the necessary evil for the greater good.

I grabbed her face and pulled it towards mine. My intention was to give her a kiss, but she was faster than me. Probably sensing my intentions, she raised one hand and struck me across the face with an open palm. I felt my face searing hot as it reddened.

"What are you doing?!" she yelled loud enough to drown the drums around me. With a force beyond her, she pushed me, making me stumble backward. I remember blacking out a few seconds after my head hit the ground, enough for her to be fussing over me when I woke up.

I must admit that my heart shrank with guilt when I saw tears pouring down her eyes. There was a mix of anger, confusion and regret brewing behind them as she held my head.

"I'm sorry," she muttered over and over again. Even when the fault was entirely my own, she felt bad for me. She was too precious for this world.

I could only hold her cheek as she regained her composure. You can call me a monster for taking advantage of such youth, but it was for the greater good. Will you judge me, oh reader? Will you turn your nose to my actions? I hope you do--I deserve the scorn.

I'm writing this story not for your amusement, but for your judgment. I have escaped my responsibilities long enough. I need to be exculpated of my sins, or at least to be executed by them. I cannot live with the guilt anymore.

The waiting is the worst part.

Every day I wake up with memories of that city. With the burden of those days. I cannot bear it any longer.

The waiting is the worst part.

Can you be my judge, dear reader? I long for it. I want this to end. I want to be free, or be condemned by history to repeat my tale over and over again.

Waiting for death to come is the worst part.

But I'm digressing. You don't want to see the musings of an old man in the twilight of his life. You're here to see what happens next. And that you will get.

"I'm sorry," I said to Lula. "I don't know what came to me. Forgive me."

Lula used my hands to wipe away her own tears. Her lips quivered as she tried to find the proper words. "Stupid. You know I care for you deeply, but you know we have to wait. I don't want a future in this God forsaken war. Don't do that anymore. I mean, it's not like I don't want you, or anything, you're a very strapping young man, but-"

"Sorry," I muttered once again. "I'm sorry."

There was silence between us, which I found particularly odd. There was no drumming to be heard.

"It's okay," she said. "Just...don't do that again. Can you stand?"

Now, Fatima's body was still a few meters away. I had to take advantage of the situation. I "tried" to stand up, but I buckled down immediately on top of her. It was the only way we could get back without being suspicious.

"I think I sprained my ankle!" I said as I used her as a clutch. The look of guilt she gave me that day still wrinkles my heart today.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Let's take you to the bridge, okay? I'm sure Fatima will return soon. We are about to open anyway."

And just like that, the crisis was averted. As we slowly walked away from the scene, I turned my head to look at Fatima's body while thinking that I had to take care of that before Lula decided to look for her again. Just as I did, two very important things happened.

The first one was the realization that Fatima's corpse was actually Fatima's mangled and very much unconscious body. Her eyes bolted open with panic and confusion, locking with mine in the split second that I turned around.

She drew a sharp breath before the second thing happened.

A metallic, bony hand appeared from the woods, impaling her head with a spike protruding from its palm before dragging her away into the night. It was a blink and you miss moment.

"Sebas," said Lula, stopping dead in her tracks. "Is it me, or are there drums humming in the distance?"