[ WP ] When I finally breathe my last , I will no more regret my past .

In this vast land, where all crime goes unpunished and God no longer can help us, we meet death every day. We greet him when the grenades fall, when the water goes scarce, when the desperate people with the guns come, hoping to take our food or, in some cases, make food out of us. We have nothing to pray for, because nothing belongs to us. Not our homes, our land, not the water or the air, not even our lives. There is no government, no care, no structure. Just a desert of ruins, smoke, flames and death. I am one of the lucky ones who grew up to get to The Choice: I found when my birthday was the day I became 18. Because the man came. Just out of nowhere, a clean shaved man in a suit. It looked so peculiar, I laughed for the first time in years. His face looked so bright I can not clearly remember his features. He offered me a suitcase. His long fingers delicately pulled a key out of his pocket. `` Open it'', he said. I did, almost instinctively, as I did most things in life. Inside were 12 shiny gold inhalers, numbered and placed in an order from 12 to 1. He asked me if I knew what they were. And I did. It was The Choice. Each inhaler included chemicals of unknown origin and consistency, but with a very well known effect: immortality. Immortality for 24 hours, regenerative abilities beyond any belief, increased strength and sharp clear thought. And instant death afterwards, unless of course you got to the next one. 12 days. 12 days of life as an Indistructible. And death. At 18 years old and 12 days. I had heard stories of twins killing each other to make it to 24 days. Of kids trying to protect their families in the ruins and young lovers offering their inhalers to their beloved as a last farewell. Every last one of the Choosers used them to bring death. Some in desperate attempts to bring justice, and others in a last attempt to live having the things they always longed for. This wasteland, burdened by war and disease has no riches. But the chance to kill someone for the water they carry is almost like a divine gift to most of us. These days give us a future. We are so hopeless that the guarantee of 12 more days seems like future. Like longer than we deserve. Like an angelic song that promises us everything, because we could be dead the moment we say `` no''. And the man in the suit kept looking at me. With his wax like face and dead eyes. That was 11 days ago. I have taken 11 golden breaths. I have found what I needed to do, and how to do it. I have murdered relentlessly. 99 men in suits, hunted down, killed, tortured to betray their `` coworkers''. I have finally understood. This is why nothing grows in this land. Not trees, not animals, not even the people. Because of The Choice. Because we all take it. And those who do n't end up killed by those who did. We are becoming so hopeless that we forget to hope. To hope that we may live. To believe that we have to go on. I do feel regret. Not for the lives I took, but because I accepted. The moment I breathed my first, my thoughts suddenly were clear, everything made sense. I regret it deeply, because I became part of it. But... 1 more man. The man I met. One more man in a suit. That's all I have to do. Put an end to it before it goes on for another 10 years. Before we seize to exist. Before `` hope'' becomes a word we no longer know. 1 day. 1 man. 1 breath. And when I finally breathe my last, I will no more regret my past.
