forget.
That I will not forget because they are marked inside me. Their blood is on my hands and in my heart.
In the end, I created death just like I was supposed to.
I wish I hadn’t.
Life was simpler before Jerusha opened my eyes. It was simpler when I didn’t know him, when he was Death and nothing more.
His hands are bloody too. I will never forget that. But I also know he will not forget either. I see the price he paid for that blood, and it was not the nothing I believed it was. All his choices were shaped by Keran Berj.
Keran Berj created him for a reason, and I believed in that creation.
He was Keran Berj’s creature, but what grew in Jerusha’s heart was something else. Something that wanted more.
He is as much a person as I am. He even loved.
He loved Mary, who didn’t love him back. Who was a reminder of everything from when his life was simple. But it was still love.
I have never loved anyone like that.
I have never loved anyone besides myself. It gave me the strength to get here, but what it cost . . . I do not know what it will cost me.
I do know what I will have to remember forever. Who I will have to remember. How I never once thought to look back in the village. I never once thought to see if anyone was hurt as I chose to walk away. As I chose life.
I fold my hands together, and after a moment Jerusha touches my shoulder clumsily. Kindly. I do not flinch away, but I want to. I just don’t know if it is from him or myself.
We sit in silence until the train stops. No one moves for a long time, but then the doors finally creak open, the soldiers leaving first, stepping off into the sunlight that’s rapidly filling the sky.
CHAPTER 39
J erusha and I do not get off right away. We both sit, watching others go. From our car, from others, they venture out slowly. Some are old and some are young. Some are clearly in a hurry, and some are hanging back a little, smoothing their clothes or hair again. Looking at their papers again.
I wonder what they will all do when they cross the border. Will they think of the train? Will they be eager to go back? Will they think of their lives with pleasure? Can they?
I have never known pleasure with the People. I did love the Hills, but I was able to leave them behind.
I left them because all they are is a place where people are born to die.
I think of the City, of the people I saw waiting in lines. Of the tick-tock man, and the terror he brought. That was Jerusha’s world, and he left it for the same reasons I left mine.
Keran Berj’s world and the People’s world, the worlds Jerusha and I have traveled through, are ones that promise that death brings glory. That life is only about death.
But it shouldn’t be.
Life is about being alive. It is about living.
If that choice—life—has made us both do things that have stained our minds and souls, it is a price I am willing to pay. I will pay in memory. I will pay by standing by my choice to be here. To be alive.
I will leave the beliefs I was told were true behind. I will find ones that will show me how to hold life gently. That will teach me to respect others and not see them as less than human.
Jerusha already knows these things, and yet he let me judge him. He let me judge him, and he saved me. He is actually more human than I am.
He is more human than anyone I have ever known.
And he is so alone. I have never had a friend, not a true one, but at least I had the Hills, the land, around me. He only had Keran Berj.
Jerusha has never had anything or anyone to really depend on since he was very young. He has never had a true friend.
We have both traveled down strange roads, down paths full of lies. Jerusha saw the evil in his, and I saw the empty heart of mine.
We have both done terrible things to be here. We have both come so far to be new. I know we will both try to do that now. Not just because we want to live, but also because we have to.
We must live to remember what we have done.
We will
That I will not forget because they are marked inside me. Their blood is on my hands and in my heart.
In the end, I created death just like I was supposed to.
I wish I hadn’t.
Life was simpler before Jerusha opened my eyes. It was simpler when I didn’t know him, when he was Death and nothing more.
His hands are bloody too. I will never forget that. But I also know he will not forget either. I see the price he paid for that blood, and it was not the nothing I believed it was. All his choices were shaped by Keran Berj.
Keran Berj created him for a reason, and I believed in that creation.
He was Keran Berj’s creature, but what grew in Jerusha’s heart was something else. Something that wanted more.
He is as much a person as I am. He even loved.
He loved Mary, who didn’t love him back. Who was a reminder of everything from when his life was simple. But it was still love.
I have never loved anyone like that.
I have never loved anyone besides myself. It gave me the strength to get here, but what it cost . . . I do not know what it will cost me.
I do know what I will have to remember forever. Who I will have to remember. How I never once thought to look back in the village. I never once thought to see if anyone was hurt as I chose to walk away. As I chose life.
I fold my hands together, and after a moment Jerusha touches my shoulder clumsily. Kindly. I do not flinch away, but I want to. I just don’t know if it is from him or myself.
We sit in silence until the train stops. No one moves for a long time, but then the doors finally creak open, the soldiers leaving first, stepping off into the sunlight that’s rapidly filling the sky.
CHAPTER 39
J erusha and I do not get off right away. We both sit, watching others go. From our car, from others, they venture out slowly. Some are old and some are young. Some are clearly in a hurry, and some are hanging back a little, smoothing their clothes or hair again. Looking at their papers again.
I wonder what they will all do when they cross the border. Will they think of the train? Will they be eager to go back? Will they think of their lives with pleasure? Can they?
I have never known pleasure with the People. I did love the Hills, but I was able to leave them behind.
I left them because all they are is a place where people are born to die.
I think of the City, of the people I saw waiting in lines. Of the tick-tock man, and the terror he brought. That was Jerusha’s world, and he left it for the same reasons I left mine.
Keran Berj’s world and the People’s world, the worlds Jerusha and I have traveled through, are ones that promise that death brings glory. That life is only about death.
But it shouldn’t be.
Life is about being alive. It is about living.
If that choice—life—has made us both do things that have stained our minds and souls, it is a price I am willing to pay. I will pay in memory. I will pay by standing by my choice to be here. To be alive.
I will leave the beliefs I was told were true behind. I will find ones that will show me how to hold life gently. That will teach me to respect others and not see them as less than human.
Jerusha already knows these things, and yet he let me judge him. He let me judge him, and he saved me. He is actually more human than I am.
He is more human than anyone I have ever known.
And he is so alone. I have never had a friend, not a true one, but at least I had the Hills, the land, around me. He only had Keran Berj.
Jerusha has never had anything or anyone to really depend on since he was very young. He has never had a true friend.
We have both traveled down strange roads, down paths full of lies. Jerusha saw the evil in his, and I saw the empty heart of mine.
We have both done terrible things to be here. We have both come so far to be new. I know we will both try to do that now. Not just because we want to live, but also because we have to.
We must live to remember what we have done.
We will
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