The night was rather gelid, no sign of life to drown the silence, the rain has wiped out any hope of comfort. It was a complete darkness.
A figure shrouded in fog suddenly emerged from the rubble, a silhouette of a man, he was covered in blood, wet liquid of terror, a crimson colour of tribulation.
He wept like a child, fell to his knees and cried, clenching his fist, he cursed the world, he yelled justice, he demanded an explanation. Then he slowly remembered.
An obscene sight of betrayal. Punches were thrown, blood splattered on the walls of turpitude, guts everywhere, eviscerated. Then there was the deafening silence. Sobs. Deep bellow of remorse.
It kept raining as the man disappeared into the night. He mourned for a lost part of him, even the welkin mourned with him.