Jade Harley P. O. V
" If I had the chance.", I thought. I regret what I did. "I'm sorry, Grandpa.", I whisper to a picture frame, with a picture that even I can't recognize anymore. A picture which was covered with my tears. "Grandpa...", I sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all my fault.", I cried. "Grandpa, I shouldn't have played with your hunting rifle.", I kept crying and talking to the picture frame, hoping to get an answer. I put down the picture frame for a little while to get a hold of reality again. But, it just seems impossible to do so. It's so impossible. I sit there, knees on my chest, eyes closed shut, and hands pressed on my ears. I should have been able to predict that. I should have. I still try to repeatedly shout in my mind. I sit there, trying to forget about that incident. Trying hard to prevent that god-awful gunshot from reaching my ears. Ever since, I've hated gunshots and the horror that they brought down to my life. I hated them, but, I kept using guns. I think that it's something that ties me to my grandfather. I want to forget about that incident. I want to, I try, but, but, I can't do it. "It's impossible! It's impossible! It's impossible!", I screamed. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!", I shrieked out loud, not caring about who heard me. "If only. If only I had the chance. I would go back..."
Rose Lalonde P.O.V
"To all of the precious days.", I still kept thinking about how it was my fault that my mother died. It was because of me ; my own carelessness that led her to her own death. I wasn't able to help her, I wasn't. I felt useless. "I wasn't able to help her.", I thought. I despise myself. I hate myself. No. No, not hate. I loathe myself. After all of the things she has done for me, I wasn't able to help her. If only I knew what would've happened, I would've been able to protect her. But now, here I am; regretting, moping, crying, despising myself. I don't cry a lot. I've only cried for a few times in my whole life. But, today is a special occasion. Today, I will cry my heart out, until I have no more tears left to shed. I sit on top of my bed, leaning my back against the wall, ears covered by my useless hands, eys closed, tears still flowing out from them. "It's because of me. It's because of me. It's because of me. It's because of me..." , I repeated and repeated. "It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.", I changed my chants. I repeated and repeated those words as if I was reciting a magic spell, which was of course awkward since I really like wizards and magic. Thinking about wizards and magic, I remember how much my mom supported me with my weird interests. Sometimes we fight, but still, we were able to fix our problems. Living in a world without her is excruciating. I feel like I'm being burned alive. "MOM!", I put my hands in front of me, as if I was hugging a non-existent figure, trying hard to imagine what it would be like to have her back beside me. "Mom!". No matter how much we fought..."
Dave Strider P.O.V
"Bro. I've always thought you were invincible.", I thought. "Remember this, Dave.", his strong voice still rings in my ears. "Nothing can ever stop a Strider.", his voice still continues in my ears. I remember replying to this statement. "Bro, are you sure?", I said back then. Because of that, I continued to believe that us Striders are invincible, that nothing really can stop us. But, after a twisted turn of events, I saw him, my Bro, lying there on the ground, sword carefully penetrating through his body. "BRO!", I shouted. "Don't leave me..", I whisper to him. I looked at his dead body. I once thought of trying to remove that god-damned sword, but, I didn't do it, in respect for my brother. I knew that I would only draw more of his precious blood if I did remove it. I took off my Bro's shades, closed his eyes, and planted a kiss on his lips. I sat there, not moving, still looking at my Bro's body, mourning about my horrible loss. "Bro.", I sobbed. I decided on killing myself, but, it would only mean losing. Admitting defeat to this game called life. I knew that Bro wouldn't approve of me killing myself. He would want me to carry on his will. "Bro, I've always loved you.", I whispered again, planted one last kiss on his lips. I stood up, turned around, and walked away, thinking, "It never crossed my mind that you'd be gone."