One of us is tender hearted
We weren't coming back.
In a way, it didn't quite seem fair. After everything we had done for this place that shouldn't exist, but somehow did, we were supposed to live happily ever after in a world that was nowhere near as bright and wonderful and full of love as this one.
But I think the most heart wrenching thing of all was that we had to leave behind us the power to make a difference.
There was so much hate in our world. So much death, in a war that didn't want to end: a war I was helpless to stop. How could I go back there after seeing how much I could do in Narnia?
It's all I can do not to cry, and I hate it because I feel so selfish, and because, despite everything, I can't do a thing to change Aslan's mind.
And I hate it because it makes me feel angry. I don't like being angry. Like a hot coal is smouldering away in my stomach.
I tell myself: get over it, Susan, but I can't. How can I get over a loss this great?
'You must come to know me in your world, now.'
That's what he'd said, and I had an inkling of what he meant, but I didn't have Lucy's faith in the unseen. I couldn't prove that he was there in that other world, and certainly, it was hard to believe that, if Aslan did exist over there, that he would do nothing to end that war, two.
It was so hard to have faith. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant to be in Narnia. I could make a difference here. Over there I was just another girl. A child. I couldn't even volunteer to be an army nurse.
'You must come to know me in your world, now.'
I had to believe.
But I didn't know if I could.