Dear Past, You Suck!

Preparation and Desperation

"I do not know, Charlie. This topic makes me uncomfortable though."

"Really? What is the issue?"

I sighed and pulled up more grass, "I have only told a few people this but when I was found I had a few...problems. Most people know that I have amnesia because of the trauma of whatever happened to me. But no one really knows that it wasn't only amnesia I was suffering from. I was having these delusions. I was convinced that," I took in a shaky breath, "That I was from the future. My mind created all of these fake memories of myself and friends and even family.I even thought my name was Alice. It was really hard for me to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't who I thought I was. So with these ideas of the future I can say that I am not eager to find about what the future actually is."

There was a few seconds of silence filled only by the echo of hammers hitting nails. Charlie touched my hand reassuringly,"I am glad you shared this with me. But the thing about that future, the fake future, is that it is not real. It can be anything we want it to be. We can create the life we want. You could be Alice and I could be... I could be named James. We could do it, you know. We do not have to live here. We could live by ourselves, together! What do you say, El. Be my Alice and I will be your James."

He stared at me in desperation, a wild yet vulnerable look was in his eyes. A look I had never seen before. He was putting everything on the line- and he knew it. I was suddenly very aware of his hand clutching mine. I slipped my hand out from beneath his. "Charlie..." I said softly, his head sinking already knowing what I was going to say. "I am married to your brother. I am going to have his child. I love him."

His gaze stayed locked onto the ground, all emotion that had been on it before had been erased. "I... well I assumed that since it was rushed and arranged... I thought you did not love him." There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke again, "If he does not come ba-"

"Do not speak those words to me Charles. Don't you dare."

So many times we have sat in silence, never has it been awkward. But here we were uncomfortable silence for the first time. I stood up without his usual assistance.

"I should go." I said quietly.

"When I went to India, they have a belief that we will all be reborn. Perhaps one day there will be nothing in our way to be together."

I did not respond as I walked away.

Abraham stood in the field, his limbs heavy from tiredness, blood that was not his on his clothes. The thick smoke and smell of gun powder used to bother him and the sound of explosions would hurt his ears, but he noticed neither of them anymore. His movement was robotic and automatic. Point, click, shoot, back, reload. Again and again. He didn't look around the battlefield. He didn't want to. Instead he focused on his task. He finished stuffing gunpowder down the barrel of the gun and stepped forward as the row who had just fired stepped back. He raised his gun aiming at the opposing side. He can't remember whether they are French, Swedish or Spanish. So many fields like this he has been through. Although he had lived each time, he never felt like it was a victory. Even when they had decimated the other side. But Abraham was not an idiot. They were losing more than they won.

He pulled the trigger, bracing for the kickback. He didn't see if the shot had landed anywhere. He stepped back into line. The dangerous part-his defenses would be down as he reloaded the gun. Fingers working quickly as they could. Another launch of bullets penetrated their line. A small gasp came from beside him, causing his head to turn. Many times had the man beside him fallen on the battlefield and never had he looked but this time he knew who it was. He watched as the young boy dropped to his knees, the gun falling out of his hands. He looked at Abraham with fear in his eyes. He wasn't more than fourteen.

For some reason timed seemed to slow as he held eye contact with the boy. Their line stepped forward without them. He was supposed to have reloaded his gun yet he held the unloaded gun in his hand as he watched the boy. The boy finally gave up, falling into the thick bloodied mud.He moved forward without thinking. Pulling the boy over his shoulder he took off running, abandoning his post. He could see the medical tent over the hill, he just had to get there before he was shot. Then they were both dead. His commander on horseback trotted up to them. The son of a rich merchant he was. Abraham would have been that if his parents hadn't disowned him.

"What do you think you are doing, soldier?" He bellowed.

Abraham's throat was hoarse from smoke but he croaked out, "Injured boy."

The commander's eyes narrowed, "I do not care if he is the King of England himself. You do not ever abandon your position!"

"Sir-"

"Get back out there. Right now before I shoot you myself!"

But Abraham took back off through the thick mud, his feet sticking in the mud with each step. Ignoring the orders from his superior would surely mean consequences later. He would probably be flogged. But as long as the boy lived, he didn't care. He had to move faster than this crawling pace. He could hear the other side yelling in French, readying for another volley of bullets. But the weight of him and the boy seemed to drive him further into the mud.

The sound of dozens of small explosions going off penetrated his ears. Then something hot hit him in the side. He dropped the boy and reached for his side, blood already spewing. He clutched the site of the searing hot pain. He didn't feel himself falling. Or the mud that covered his body. It didn't alarm him even as the world seemed to spin out of view. He did not even feel the bullet that had found itself inside his chest. All he thought about was seeing her again. Visions passed in front of his eyes. A magnificent home. Three kids at the dinner table. Alice in his arms as they watched the stars. Alice telling the tales of the future to their kids. The two of them growing old together. He watched the decades pass before his eyes as he lay in the mud of the battlefield.