We were so optimistic of the outcome. Children going to war. But while your mouth smiled and told stories of encouragement, your eyes told a different story. You were afraid. You had lost faith. I wanted to hold you in my arms and promise you a future, a tomorrow. But I could never lie to you. You wouldn't have believed me either way. So I passed you a bottle of wine, hoping the sweet taste would take away some of your troubles. My hands never left you. Not really. While you drank, I caressed you in my mind. I stroked the hair away from your face and let my lips graze your forehead. I looked deep into your eyes, silently promising that I would not let any harm come to you. I am so sorry that I dragged you into this. I know that I am the cause of your worries. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I did not fear for my own life, but I did fear for yours. You had no idea of the thousand battles I fought inside of me, because not once did I look at you. You were so far away, and I was so cold. And as you fell asleep, I promised you over and over again that I would gladly give my life to save yours.

Morning came too quickly. Before I knew it, the pavement was coloured with the blood of children hoping to win a grown-up war. I did not see you once, and I had no idea of your fate. I could only hope for your safety as the soldiers surrounded me. As they were about to shoot, you stumbled your way to me. You stupid child, why walk into the line of fire when you could have run away? Your face bore the look of determination you lacked last night, as if to say that if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that you would meet your fate by my side. I grasped your hand, and in a last defiant act, I raised the flag in my hand above our heads, shielding us from our enemies. In one small moment there was only you and me. But the flag could not stop the bullets.

The last thing I remembered was the look of determination you gave me,

the feeling of your hand in mine,

a fleeting whisper of love that may or may not have been spoken out loud,

and then nothing.

As the blood poured out of the children playing soldiers, colouring the country red, there was nothing.

Yet, for one glorious moment...

I had been with you.