The storm was unforgivable.
As I kneel on the cold, hard ground, a million thoughts race through my mind- How? How could this happen? How could I be so stupid to allow this? Why would he do this? How could he do this to me, to us? Sobbing, I look up at the only one who could put me in this state, the only one I've loved and trusted this much, and the one that I once called 'My Own'. He's looking at me, almost like he's looking down on me. I try to speak, but with the knot in my throat and the look on his face I find it nearly impossible. His demeaning stare turns to one of pity as he scrutinizes my face.
"Wh-Why?" I begin to speak, but the sobs take over. Gaining composer, I close my eyes and try to speak again. "Why? Why did you want to leave? How could you do this to me?' shaking, I stood up, 'I treated you like my own. I took you in, I clothed you, I fed you, I comforted you, I raised you, and I gave you love when no one else would!" I was yelling at the top of my lungs, as if trying to get it through his thick skull. "I called you 'My Own'! I raised you to be a proper gentleman! What can freedom get you? What's so important about it? All freedom gives you is heartache- heartache and loneliness! You never have someone to comfort you or treat you right or someone to trust! When you have freedom, all anyone ever does is stab you in the back, kick you while you're down, and mistreat you! How can that be desirable? Why would you want that? Why would anyone want that? How could anyone desire that?' I scream, not really at him, just anyone in hearing proximity, 'Huh? Well, tell me! Why would anyone want that?" Finally going quiet from my fit, I open my tear-filled eyes to look at him. He's just standing there, watching me. He's watching me not with a look of shock or fear from my sudden outburst, but one of pity- the same look he had earlier. He hadn't changed his posture, gaze, or location. He just stood there, watching me. "Wh-what's wrong with you?' I questioned, 'Who are you? Have you changed that much? Has this war and 'Freedom' thing done this to you?"
He just keeps standing there, watching me. What could he be thinking? "What's wrong with you? How can you just stand there?" I plead for a reply. Suddenly, he turns his back on me. "I'm sorry, England, but this is something I have to do," is all he says as he walks away from me. Speechlessly, I stand there, watching him walk away from me. Falling to the ground, I begin to bawl. As his figure gradually grows smaller in the storm, I can't help but ask myself,
"Where did I go wrong?"