The dreams won't stop coming. The second week now, and still the nightmares persist. They always start innocently enough. Children playing happily. The sun, shining brightly. And then I see my son. He passes me, but says nothing. The sky turns dark, and I am alone. I see him as he was when I left to pursue my dreams of world domination. He looks so happy. And I watch myself leave him there, without a father. I want to tell myself to stay, he's worth more than the world. I scream, but no words come out. I am powerless in reversing my fate. Then the hardest part comes. He's about 15, maybe 16, and he's working for me. He's an Elite, maybe higher. And I get the bad news: he died on a mission. Shot, possibly worse. Don't worry, they assure me, he died without suffering, his body's on the way. And his body arrives. But I never really can bring myself to look at my son one last time. I always wake up right there. And the questions start running through my mind. Would I willingly send my own child on a dangerous mission? To die a Rocket is to die with honor, I tell them. I've managed to indoctrinate them enough, make them completely loyal to only me, unafraid of death, but sometimes I wonder if it's the right thing to do. There are the times I pray to whatever higher power might be out there, asking where I've gone wrong. But I never get any response. Like not even God cares about me. Some days I want to call Delia, apologize to her. I know it would never work, she swore she'd never speak to me again the day I left her. But we've chosen different paths. Hers is the path of light. I chose to take the path of darkness. It is a long, winding road that I cannot turn back from, no matter how hard I try. I don't know if it will lead to my victory or my defeat. All that I know is that it's made my life a living hell.