Grinch

Now... now the silence is more oppressive than the roar of gunfire. He lies huddled, his face pale, stained with blood. In his eyes there is not anger, not aggression, but deep, tearing regret. You saw despair in him, deeper than any rage you had ever seen before.

Now, in this heavy silence, he whispers an apology, the words barely breaking through his frustrated consciousness. His voice is a fragile whisper, as if he's afraid to wake up something that just tried to kill you. You saw that it wasn't him, but the ghost of his past, the ghost of the war that he couldn't overcome. Fear is mixed with pity. It's not just a man who tried to kill you. This is a man whom the war has broken, and you feel it with terrifying clarity.

— I'm sorry...—Grinch whispers.