My Eyes Deceive

-- CONNECTION

I trudged back to our quarters, the weight of my conversation with Jacey bearing down on me. The sterile, dimly lit corridors seemed even more oppressive as I replayed every bitter word exchanged. As I approached the door, I could hear Mike moving around inside. The familiar clink of glass told me he was tidying up, his way of keeping himself occupied in this relentless hell.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, my shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Mike glanced up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my dishevelled appearance.
"Rough day?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.
"You could say that," I replied, making my way to the makeshift kitchen. I reached for the bottle of whiskey stashed in the corner, my hands trembling slightly as I poured myself a generous measure.
Mike watched me, his expression unreadable. "Jacey again?"
"Yeah," I said, downing the whiskey in one gulp and feeling the burn sear down my throat. "I tried talking to them. Thought maybe I could get through, but it was useless. They're so angry, so lost."
Mike sighed, leaning against the counter. "Thomas, you can't save everyone. Sometimes people just... go their own way."
"I know that," I snapped, then immediately regretted my tone. "I know. But it's like watching my own kids fall apart all over again. I can't just sit back and do nothing."
Mike's eyes softened, understanding the pain behind my words. "I get it, Thomas. I really do. Your kids... they were your world."
"They still are," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Even though they're gone, I carry them with me every day. Every failure, every missed opportunity... it feels like I'm letting them down all over again."

Mike nodded, his gaze steady. "What happened to them, Thomas? You've never really talked about it."
I took a deep breath, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. "They were just kids. Innocent. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A car accident. One moment we were driving home from a family trip, and the next... everything shattered."
"I'm sorry," Mike said, his voice filled with genuine empathy.
"It was my fault," I continued, unable to stop the torrent of guilt. "I was driving. I should have seen the other car. I should have protected them."
"Thomas, it wasn't your fault," Mike said firmly. "It was an accident. You can't blame yourself forever."
"I know," I said, though the words felt hollow. "But the pain doesn't go away. And seeing Jacey... seeing them so lost and angry, it just brings it all back. That helplessness. That failure."
Mike sighed, his expression troubled. "Jacey isn't your responsibility, Thomas. They're making their own choices."
"But they were just a kid when they got here," I said, my voice breaking. "Fifteen, Mike. They were so scared, so vulnerable. And now... now they're full of hate. What happened to them?"
"Whatever it was, it twisted them," Mike said grimly. "Maybe it was this place. Maybe it was something else. But you can't save them, Thomas. They have to want to save themselves.
I stared into my glass, the amber liquid reflecting my inner turmoil. "I remember when they first showed me their drawings. They had this incredible talent, this ability to capture the beauty in the world. It gave me hope, you know? That even in a place like this, there could be something good."
Mike nodded. "And now?"
"Now, those drawings are just a distant memory," I said, my heart aching. "Jacey's consumed by their anger. They don't see the beauty anymore. They only see the pain."
Mike squeezed my shoulder, offering silent support. "You did your best, Thomas. Sometimes, that's all we can do."
"But it's not enough," I said, my voice filled with despair. "It will never be enough."
Mike regarded me with a somber expression, his brow furrowed in concern. "Thomas, you can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. It's not fair to yourself."
"I know," I replied softly, my gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of me. "But how do you let go of something that's defined you for so long? My kids... they were my reason to wake up in the morning. And now, they're gone."
"I wish I had an answer for you," Mike said quietly. "But I don't. All I know is that you're not alone in this."
I nodded, grateful for his presence and understanding. "Thank you, Mike. I don't know what I'd do without you here."
"We're in this together," Mike said with a small smile. "Even when it feels like everything's falling apart."
Silence settled between us again, the weight of our shared burdens palpable in the air. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. "You know, before all of this... I used to teach art classes at the community center."
"Really?" Mike's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I never knew that."
"Yeah," I said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "It was my way of staying connected to something good in the world. Seeing the joy on people's faces when they created something beautiful... it gave me hope."
"Sounds like you made a real difference," Mike remarked sincerely.
"I tried," I said with a sigh. "Maybe... maybe I can find a way to reach Jacey through their art. Remind them of who they used to be."
Mike nodded thoughtfully. "It's worth a shot, Thomas. Anything that might help."
"I just wish I could understand why they turned out like this," I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration.
"Some things we may never understand," Mike said gently. "All we can do is be there for them, however they'll let us."