I don't remember much.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't remembered it so well.
A few glimpses of my own past, nothing more.
It? No, that just doesn't feel right. Again; I remember…
The only thing I seem to remember is…
Him.
His eyes, kind and gentle and beautiful.
His lips, soft against mine yet somewhat demanding.
His strong hands brush my bare skin, running down my spine.
Then stronger hands, pulling me away.
They can't do anything to me, since they can't risk sending a high-ranked man such as myself to Larkhill,
So I know he's safe; but I'm his weakness, and therefore am about to pay, for both of us.
They drag him out; just like that, half naked and all. I guess that doesn't matter to them, since he's about to die anyway.
Since they are about to kill me. I know I can't resist now - only delay the unavoidable - but I still struggle, still put up a fight; if they are to take me, let it be in one last act of protest.
It's been a few years now. I'm not sure if he survived; not sure if another day at the camps means you're lucky or just going to suffer a little more.
I remember the tortures; I remember sleepless nights, planning; I remember the letter; I remember the flames surrounding me as this cursed place burned to ashes.
I remember being reborn.
I remember…
Remember…
The fifth of November.
This glorious return.
The shock, the fear…
The hope.
The first big step on the road to putting out the Norsefire.
That it's him. That I would have to hunt him down. That I will see him again.
That it's not who I think it is.
It also means there's a chance of meeting him again, but as a rival.
If it comes to this, I will have to take him down; I have no choice.
I must.