Lost

*****

The most instrumental day of my life--but not as planned…

*****

...And as I knelt, pulling the ring out of my pocket, her jaw fell open and tears glistened in her eyes. “Angelica, I have a…” At that moment, four heavily armed men in black pulled up in a sleek car, jumped out wielding guns, and marched up to me. 

“Ellis Jackson?” a husky voice called from the group.

“Can’t you see you’re interrupting something?” I responded, seething with anger. Barely controlling my flaring temper, I waited for the man to attempt to justify this inexcusable interference. But what he said surprised me beyond what I ever imagined…

*****

“March, two, three, four! Look alive, soldiers! This isn’t a tea party; this is the army! I want to see you run until the sweat rolls like rain off your backs!” I gritted my teeth and turned away from the sergeant, grabbing the ring in my pocket. I had to do this, I told myself. Not for me--for her. Feeling the ring there reminded me of the promise I had made to her, and how the government had ripped it away from me. That burning hatred was what fueled me, day after day, the first into training and the last to leave. For what was the government, preaching “freedom from oppression” and “the voice of the people” as it tore us away from our hopes and dreams? In reality, it was just a group of hypocritical tyrants, disguised by propaganda and politics as “upholders of justice.” 

*****

“You’ve been drafted to join the infantry, 115th division. Your service to our nation begins as of now.”

I was at an utter loss for words. I was leaving? Now? At this, the most inopportune of times? I looked despairingly at Angelica, left alone in the clearing. She sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. “Ellis...no…” Sobs choked her from saying much more, and my last sight of her, the only person I loved in this world, was her crying freely, beating the grass with her fists. Alas, she knew as well as I--we were powerless in the hands of the government…

I woke up with a cold start, sweat beads dampening my forehead. It’s just a dream, I told myself as I lay back on my wooden cot. But--it wasn’t. It had really happened, and Angelica was out there somewhere, waiting, while I was confined to army training. The mere thought of her helplessly beating the floor as she had on that last day was the object of my recurring nightmares. I balled the sheets up and pounded my forehead. I should have fought them harder! Maybe they would have let me stay. But I was a coward, lost waiting for a peace that may never arrive.

*****

“Reporting for duty, Lieutenant.”

“Ah, just as well, Sergeant. The commander and I were just having a conversation about the state of this infernal war.”

“Yes, we just received the extraordinary news that two new nations have entered our alliance. New ammunition is expected in two weeks’ time, and reinforcements will arrive within a month. We may not win this war, but we sure as hell won’t give in!”

“How long do you expect these reinforcements will last us, Lieutenant?”

“With the new surge of morale from the recent victory along with it, I’d say another two years, if victory doesn’t arrive sooner.”

I drew back from my hiding place in the nook, breathing frantically. Two years? Six months had already passed, and the sudden image of Angelica pining alone in her home forced me to stifle a scream of pain. I felt a stab of pity, longing to rush back home and eliminate any burden of pain from her shoulders. I could endure all the heartache, all the loneliness of training--but two years for her to be laden with such sorrow? Trying to contain my anger, I bit my lip until blood poured forth. The truth was, I was impotent, a pawn in the hands of the mighty government. And I should have known it all along.

Curiously, this realization didn’t have the effect that the government intended it to have on all its pawns. I was expected to feel downtrodden and humbled, but I couldn’t get the image of Angelica’s tears out of my head. My girlfriend was heartbroken and alone, and I was going to just sit here and bewail the evils of the government? But my bloody lip had given me an idea. As a dangerously risky plan began to formulate in my head, I drew back in fear. I couldn’t really be considering this. This was beyond anything I had ever attempted in my life. But--remember Angelica, Ellis. Do it for her.

*****

Free. After two years in the army, I was finally free. But as I crawled out of the enemy battlefield, hoping nobody saw me, all I could think of was that this was not the triumphant march back to Angelica I had envisioned. Rather, the emotions within me were mixed with those I never thought I would feel: guilt, regret, repentance...It had all happened so fast…

Limping away from enemy headquarters, I knelt and touched my hand to my knee, where I had intentionally wounded myself in battle. The memory of crimson blood spilling out as I hid so my comrades wouldn’t find me and anticipated the enemy’s arrival made me feel nauseous, though at the time I had never felt so pleased as when I saw their scout looking for hostages. I remembered frantically waving my hands in the air and yelling until I was hoarse, and my joy when I finally succeeded in catching the scout’s attention. Carried onto enemy ground, any devoted soldier would have felt dejected, but that day I knew I had just won my return to Angelica.“Wait! Wait! Before you dispose of me or throw me into a work camp, I have some information you may need!” I had tried not to let the enemy soldier hear the desperation in my voice, but my entire plan hinged on their interest in my information. “I know the plan for the next offensive; all I ask in return is my freedom once the war ends...”

As I was jolted back to reality from my reverie, I was left with the same whirlwind of thoughts I had attempted to bury after leaving the consultation room. Of course the enemy had been delighted with my information and prepared a new offensive immediately, but had I done the right thing? Betray my lieutenant, my friends in the military, all the men I had come to know and befriend? Hey. Snap out of it, Ellis. Think of Angelica. Think of how those same men tore you away from her without a thought. These men don’t care about you; they only care about politics and victory. 

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself of the good in my actions, old memories of my comrades kept resurfacing: My sergeant helping me up when I slipped, my companions pooling money to buy me new trousers after my old ones ripped, my lieutenant commending me on my extra effort and even putting in time to train me solitarily. And I had led them into a trap, to almost certain death, for what? For my personal freedom. How could I be so terribly selfish? I pushed down the wave of regret that threatened to overwhelm me, and focused on whom I was here for. Angelica. I made my way to my old home, barely able to soak in the fact that I was returning after years in the army. But at what cost? The nagging thought continued to wear away at me until I reached my childhood home--where everything but the immediate vanished from my mind.

My home, the place my grandfather had built with his own hands, had been utterly obliterated, reduced to nothing more than worthless rubble. The door was torn off its hinges and smashed, most of the wood likely taken for fuel. The broken and crumbling bricks were balancing precariously on each other. All metal had been taken to melt into weaponry. 

And knowing that my side had never planned such destruction, I was left with one glaring fact: The enemy I had aided and abetted had sanctioned--ordered--this ruination. 

Before I could wrap my mind around this shocking turn of events, I remembered why I had returned to this vault of memories. “Angelica?! Angelica, where are you? I have returned to you, my love! Angelica?” My voice choked with tears, I ran around the house, searching for any sign of her. I yelled until my voice was hoarse, frantically running to all the places she frequently visited: the restaurant nearby, her work, my work...And finally, I made my way to my last hope, the place I had seen her last, the site dearest to my heart, where I had prepared for what I’d believed would be the best day of my life. How utterly wrong I had been! I stepped into the clearing where I had begun to propose so many months ago, unaware of the lovely autumn leaves or the swirling wind. For a single glance had confirmed what I had known from the moment I saw my house in ruins. Angelica was gone. Probably, dead. I would never see her again. I sank to my knees, pulling out the ring that was meant to adorn her elegant finger, to seal the bond of marriage between us.

“Angelica,” I choked out, crying freely. “Why? All the pain I went through, everything I have done...it was all for you. I betrayed my fellow soldiers, my friends for you. I never wanted freedom. I would have been happy to die in training or on the battlefield; I had nobody left to spur my will to live. Except you--you were my motivation, my will to survive, my incentive. But...because of me...all is…” And as I trailed off, I was aware of just how much pain and suffering I had caused. I was the one who had given the battle plan to the enemy, who had provided them with the information used in the offensive campaign that had destroyed everything in its path. I was a pillager, a looter, a traitor, a murderer--everything those soldiers were, but worse. For I had done it all intentionally, knowing I would harm thousands but caring only for Angelica--really, only for myself. 

There was no purpose denying it: I had lost everything I cared for, twice--but this time, I couldn’t blame the government. This time, I had done it all to myself, brought myself down and the world down with me. Raising my head as tears spattered the leaves beneath me, I knew that what I had done was unforgivable.

I had brutally murdered the woman I loved.

An engagement ring adorned with glistening sapphires sailed into the darkness and fell with a thud onto the leaves, never to see the light of day again.

My mouth struggled to form the last word, a word forever ingrained into my heart and mind. I couldn’t force it out; I couldn’t accept the new suffering I had brought upon myself. I had chosen my own path, and my life would never be the same. I repent, I apologize, I give up! I screamed internally. 

But it was too late. Life was a terrible game, and I, a mere piece on the board, had been knocked over and eliminated. I beat my fists against the ground as my screams of helplessness drove any signs of life away from the clearing. It was all over. 

With infinite heaviness, I forced out the last word, the manifestation of defeat and sorrow. The word that represented my entire struggle, all I had gone through and what had come of it. The last, ultimate, final word:

“Lost.”

*****