Tomorrow's Touch #8

I didn’t know what to think about this mysterious note. It was signed by someone named Dwr. Who was this person? Yet another stranger who seemed to know my name. Really, it was getting more than frustrating.
And, yet…

This letter spiked my curiosity. Curiosity which apparently killed the cat.

We’re running out of time.

Whoever this was apparently needed me.
Or rather, I thought darkly, the ‘me’ with all their memories intact.

I looked up at Algar for no doubt he had already read this note. Hence the serious expression on his face.

After a while, he finally spoke.
‘You need to go.’ he said.
‘Yes.’ I agreed. ‘Who is this person?’ I asked. ‘Dwr? Who is that?’
Algar turned towards the door, avoiding my eye.

‘You should ask Bernard.’ he snarled.

He left the room. The letter was still in my hand.

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Later, I wandered aimlessly through the town. My eyes still burning in the bright summer sun. Now, I knew I had to make my way to find this person. Dwr. But, I didn’t know where they were or even who they were. So, undertaking such a task seemed nearly impossible.
My thoughts raced round my head in a relentless storm.

We’re running out of time.

The urgency was clear. But, I nonetheless had to make the right decision. If I didn’t know this person, why should I venture blindly into their domaine? I didn’t even know where they were! They could be in this very village, or they could reside at the other side of the world.

‘You should ask Bernard.’

That was exactly what I intended to do. Though, I had no idea where he was this time of the day. And, for now at least, all I wanted was to sit in a nice dark alleyway. My head still ached from the incident at Algar’s house.

I finally found a dark alleyway, I walked down that narrow street and found a set of steps, upon which a man sat with his head buried in his hands.

His shoulders shook violently as he sobbed. His fingers scarcely holding back the tears.
I sat down next to him, wondering if he would even notice my presence. He lifted his head slightly to confirm that he had.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
He looked up at me with his blue watery eyes.
‘Oh, Hannah...’ He sobbed. ‘Oh, Hannah… I thought you were her.’
‘Who?’
’Andrea.’ He took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. ‘My daughter...’

It was then that the horrible truth struck me.

‘I was the only survivor.’

When I told the doctor my name. I had unwittingly announced the death of that girl. 
I bowed my head. How many daughters and sons, mothers and fathers had been lost? Whole families ripped apart in one terrible battle.
Why had I survived and all others had died? It wasn’t fair. What was my life worth when compared to that of this man’s little girl.
What was my own breath and my own heartbeat when compared to the joy of this man, and all other fathers?
Joy which had been lost with their daughters.

Who was I to live when all others had died?

‘I’m sorry.’
My words left me, leaving a heavy lump in my throat.

I left the man. Unsure of where to go from there.
I had nothing more to say.
What could I say?

There were no words that could bring his daughter back.