Lucas

18 Years Old

This is the end of my story.

While it may seem anticlimactic to some, I assure you, I still feel every bit of the pain from where my soul was ripped from my body, leaving behind nothing but this empty shell. 

It was hell. 

It was tragic. 

It was well deserved.

It’s strange how, in the aftermath of death, the meaning of life becomes so clear. Life is hardship, pain, and suffering. It is fear, uncertainty, and if you’re one of the lucky ones, it’s filled with a lifetime of regrets. 

To some, regret is something to be avoided. But for me, it’s a lifeline. The last link to my past. The final thread tethering me to a life where I once thrived. Where I was surrounded by love, by goodness, by the promise of a future. 

My regret is proof that, for the first seventeen years of my life, I lived. Truly lived. And because of it, I remember what it felt like to have something worth fighting for. Something to live for. Something so worthy and pure that losing it made me appreciate it all the more. 

Even when the guilt forces me to relive the moment my life shattered into a billion unsalvageable pieces, it’s still worth it. Because that feeling of loss, that unspeakable pain, is proof that the life I lost mattered. That it existed. And for someone like me, who’s already dead inside, that’s the only solace I have left. 

Well, that and the knowledge that our time on this earth is a fragile thing. There’s comfort in knowing we’re destined to die from the moment we’re born. If I had the courage to end it all, I would. And though that might make me a coward, I also realize it would be a waste of the body whose heart still beats. 

I have this one last chance to honor them. My mom. My dad. And after what I cost them, after everything they sacrificed for me, this is how I’ll spend whatever time I have left in this world:

Fighting for my country. 

Putting my life on the line, not caring whether I live or die, as I carry out the missions of this great nation. 

Because maybe then, when I finally breathe my last breath, I’ll know I did everything I could to find redemption. 

It’s too late for my family.

It’s too late for me.

But for her—and those whiskey eyes that will forever haunt my dreams—I hope our tragic ending is the beginning of her happily ever after.