One winter's day, I was late walking home from school, when Caitlyn, the biggest bully at our school, came up behind me, and threw a snowball at the back of my head. Fear froze me in place. I'm done for! I thought, trying to control my panic. Finally my legs began to work. I bolted. I ran straight for my house. But Caitlyn followed after me, huffing anf puffing, while screaming "Come back here you little freak!" I ran as fast as I could. Unfortunately I didn't notice the patch of ice in front of me. I wiped out. When I was finally able to breathe again, Caitlyn was hovering over top of me with a sickening grin on her face. "How nice to see you!" She pulled me up, patted my back, and pushed me into the snow bank beside the sidewalk. Tears began to fill my eyes, making me unable to see her face. That didn't matter though, because I could hear her evil, high pitched laugh. I could no longer control the tears. They slid down my face, freezing at my chin, and humiliated me further. Whatever shall I do! I got up slowly, putting my bare hands against the cold snow, with soaking wet pants. Caitlyn, considering her work done, brushed her hands together and walked away.
A hand brushed away a tear. A completely unconscious act. She sat beside him on the bed. Daylight poured out of the open windows into the room. The hand moved back to his. Closeness beyond closeness.
What words could she say? How could she express completeness, understanding, rightness?
A memory: the truth. Lying, one cold night, together, alone. Not a space was between them. Not a word was spoken. She gazed at him, and he at her, his arms tightly around her, disbelief holding the moment. Her hand was against his cheek. She could feel the warmth; this was real; he was real. The soft glow of a lamp was the only other thing she remembered.
A squirrel screamed. The light was blinding. She looked at him again, even though it pained her to see those weary eyes. She wanted to comfort him. She always did. He was her most precious treasure. More delicate than a snowflake. More needed than the sun.
How could sickness take him away from her?
"I love you." Her heart ached. "For all that you are, with all that I am. There is no one but you."
Tears continued to flow. Once again in each other's arms. One more time, before he would leave forever, before their lives had even begun.
I will cry when he dies. I will cry for the memories of good times. I will cry for the lost ones we could have had. I will cry for the heart I know was there. I will cry for how his life turned out. I will cry because I love him. But I will not cry for guilt.
I will know it's the final blow. I will know it never changed. I will know it never will. I will know that it hurts. I will know the hurt too well. I will know that I shouldn't. But I will not know it anymore.
I'm running, at least, I think I am running. I run towards the Germans, blindly it seems, in the freezing rain that tastes so warm and refreshing. Why am I doing this? I have no reason to hate these men, these men whose cries seem like faint whispers to my ears. The sky is dark now; it seems no light shines on this horrifying act. High above the thunder roars like a hungry lion. The gods are laughing at our pathetic excuses for this maddness. The ground is wet and soft under my feet. I can smell the mud as we roll in it. I am a young animal in its first hunt, not sure what or why its doing it, but seems perfectly made for the kill. I look around me; all I can see are blurs. It feels like I'm running in slow motion, like time is holding its breath, just waiting for the end. I feel the thumping of my heart. Then I feel another type of thumping, a throbbing pain on my right arm. I look. I am cut. As I realize this in shock, I see my now watery blood flowing down my arm. I run wildly, wildly, stumbling on dead bodies, even sometimes crawling on all fours like a madman. I come to my senses. I discouver that I'm sitting on the ground, staring at the wall in our trench. I have come back. I have survived. Have I?
That's right. Don't believe me. Why should you? I'm just saying shit. I say whatever the hell I want. That's what I do, right? You don't see where my words come from. I could just be making it up as I go along. Maybe I am. Maybe I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. Do you?
Do you think I could tell you a lie? A lie so perfect, said with such sincerity, that you forget, and maybe I do too? Have you got that down? Placed that truth somewhere in a dark corner? Now we're set. Now we can play.
Hate me just a little more each day. When your realities fall apart, know it was my doing. My little part to take. Forget the truth, that you knew what it was. Believe you didn't do it. You didn't do it. That's right. I don't believe you. Don't believe me.