I tried to count the days, tried to keep track of some kind of time, but it was useless. I had become quite efficient at avoiding the fighting. The program was predictable to some degree, and avoiding the fighting meant avoiding the pain. Those sharp stabbing flares of pain that ripped through my mind when a round broke my flesh, or shrapnel ripped me apart.
Resurrection became a tidal wave of emotions. "I'm still here, I'm still here, no matter what I do I'm still here." I tried killing myself many times, but of course nothing changed. I couldn't sleep I couldn't eat. On occasion I would let my frustration out on the enemy. Those lifeless husks roaming the battlefield like zombies, firing at me on sight. I would end them, my frustration riding on the tip of my blade.
Something was wrong, something was beginning to change. Maybe the program was never designed to run this long, maybe it was breaking down. All I know is that the scenery was changing. Not in any kind of expected way. Bricks were missing, Walls where gone. I don't know how long I've been here, but I knew it by heart, every single stone, every single "grave" which is what I called the locations that my friends had become "constant". So a brick missing was like a finger having been cut from my hand. It was painfully obvious that there was something amiss.
Today I heard a voice. Someone asking for help, I don't know where it came from it seemed as though it came from everywhere at once.
There's someone else in the system, but where? How?