The Way The String Goes - Dungeons And Dragons

Stepping up before looking back

This is not the end of my story, nor is this my last adventure, at least I hope it isn't. Today was my friend's last fight... The day isn't even over yet and the fight isn't either, they are still there in front of the creature and I'm here behind them. I haven't seen with my own eyes what happened, but I know, I can feel it in my bones, someone died... and I suppose the fear of death is pulling my consciousness towards the back of my mind, trying to lock me in. At least one thing keeps me at ease... He's not here, he's safe... Right?

As I stand here in this Gods forsaken shack I keep thinking over and over the things I've done to be here today, especially the ones I've done wrong. This was probably ignited by the conversation I had with my dear friend earlier today. I've been avoiding even thinking about my past for over three years and suddenly he had this burst of sincerity and vulnerability, he's hiding so much still... I can tell... but, I just felt compelled to show him I trust him and he can trust me as well, the words just spilled out of my mouth as if they were already thought over and ready to come out. Before I realized... He knew almost everything about me... And by accident so did our other friend, putting it all in perspective it's a bit funny how that morning I was ready to turn him inside out, thinking he had hurt the one I love...

I think I'm going off-subject, my mind is racing and it's hard to stay focused, standing here behind the rest of my friends... I'm frustrated, out of real danger... I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't smart enough... I tried to help but I can't shake the feeling their death is my fault... I asked Evan to heal and he said — Arise my subject. — Someone was down, who was down?! Was it Abel? Was it Elrath? Was Evan bringing back our enemy? Sirdan was blocking my view, I couldn't see... I should've stuck to books at the library... Why didn't I just stay at the library?! That question brings a picture to the front of my mind... The memory of my neglected family... I wonder if they think I'm dead... I wonder if they care... My sister and little brother... My mother... I... I don't know if I even want to know what happened to my father... This is his fault... The fact that I'm here today is my father's fault.

— No it's not. — I found myself whispering before looking up.