PRESENT DAY 

I stare at my hands in the middle of the night, in this cold dorm room; remembering the feeling of holding my brothers and sisters in my hands as tears fill their eyes and when death came to claim them for the journeyman. The feeling of tears falling down their face, onto my hands … that is true terror. 

I get up to wash my hands at the porcelaine sink at my bedside, trying to wash the blood off my hands, but I can't do it.

 It stains my hands permanently. 

I look up at the mirror ahead of me, and see all the faces of the fallen, their sadness, their anger , their fear. All of it there; staring back at me. 

" I'm sorry I failed you " 

Tears begin to fall down my face like a waterfall when I suddenly hear a knock at my door.