In the following years, things got worse. And then they got better. I found a family, a family I loved. Occassionally I would wake up with nightmares. My wife would hold me and ask; "Who is James?"
They let me go on account of my forced nature. We all knew I could have prevented it. In my mind though, I thought it was better to be living then to be dead for someone else. How wrong I was.
In the end, I turned to judism. It's ironic, but I know some other men who did it too. In retrospect, we were only doing it to protect ourselves.
Sometimes I thought I would see James walking down the street. I would stop in my tracks to stare at him, but there would always be something out of place. A strange of hair too long, too deep of green eyes. I knew he was watching me though, whenever the man I was looking at would tip his hat and smile. Deep down, I wanted to believe it was James.
I was standing there that night, by the gate. I heard a gun shot. I had no idea it was James. I didn't say anything about it when they told me the next day. I didn't really have that much to say.
In the end, I didn't really have much to say at all.
The End