ILIAS PAYNE
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Tears had already begun falling when the questions that had clouded my mind for all these years were finally answered.
I wish I could go back to when I didn’t know.
I wish I could go back to when those answers were still questions.
My heart began aching and my once steady breathing had become rapid and short. It became harder to breathe. Even my vision began to blur before slowly fading to black.
It was all futile.
I died for nothing.
Everyone I cared for still suffered.
This isn’t fair.
“Are you okay?” Jaime asked.
During my grief, she had apparently managed to creep up and sit down across from me. Her footsteps were light.
“Yeah.”
“I hate this so much,” she groaned. “The colonel sits me down and forces me to read. I don’t think the stuff in these books will ever come in useful. Or reading and writing.” She opened her book to where she left off. “Your face is red, snot is running from your nose, and you're crying. Are you sure that you’re okay?”
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“Oh. Am I?” I wiped my tears. “This is nothing.”
“Are you sure? Does something hurt? Do you want me to call the lieutenant?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“What were you crying for?”
“It’s nothing. It’s just this part I’m reading is really sad.”
“You were so immersed that you felt like you were the person you were reading about?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Ilias, right? You should wipe your face.”
“You're right.”
I reached into my pocket to find my handkerchief missing. Trisha must’ve put it in the laundry.
“I forgot it at home.”
Jaime reached into her pocket and threw me hers. “Here, you can borrow mine. Let’s be friends, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jaime's handkerchief was dirty. It was damp and smelled of salt and earth. But nevertheless, I used it to wipe away my tears.
“You know, Ilias, you shouldn’t cry over those stories. They’re not real. I mean, they are. But you’re not the one living them.”
Jaime is just an innocent child, but even adults would tell me the same and I couldn’t blame them. They don’t exactly know my unique situation and if I told them, they would just mark it off as child’s play.
If I continue it for far too long, everyone will start to look at me like I’m crazy.
But Jaime was right.
I’m not Decan. At least not anymore.
I’ve got to let go.
It was nice getting closure from my previous life, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I did my best and I’m sure that if Joy and the others were looking down at me now, they would tell me not to worry.
I got a second chance at life—something I didn’t think most people got. I couldn’t waste it by wishing for things in the past to change.
The past can’t be changed.
The ink in Decan’s story has long dried and this is just the beginning of Ilias’. I won’t let this second chance given to me go to waste.
But still, the regret of what I was unable to accomplish drilled deep into my heart.