He observed the others, seeking to get a better sense of how each may have ended up in this sinful tangle, this crypt of extinction. He calculated the odds, smart enough to recognize that he would die, somewhere right here in this dull dungeon, amongst gray walls of stone, killed by demented demons wearing wilted robes with dreadful faces. Depraved beasts whose ultimate intentions were still developing.
“We’re all going to die,” the unusual female spoke, still clutching the dirt-stained ball cap, her battered sentiments slowly calming. Yet, she couldn’t stop staring at all the blood. “Whatever his crime, he didn’t deserve this.” She wavered in the absurdness of the macabre moment, searching her thoughts for its meaning. Her wounded emotions struggled to understand the menacing events unfolding. She stared at his corpse, trying to explain its morbid significance, attempting to see through his pain.
For a moment, Ryker considers the elation of living an ordinary life. An existence away from the constant fear and worry. A reality without the continual tragedies and the plague of his sustaining uncertainty, knowing whether he lived a happy life or a miserable one, it’s the only truth he’s ever known. He accepts it has always been his burden to carry. If not himself then who, who would he wish this agony on? He recognizes that through his many misfortunes, it may have prevented someone else from enduring his never-ending barrage of sorrow.