His Empty Room

Fagan

He once told me that everything was going to be okay. He once told me he wasn't leaving me. He once told me he was going to be fine. He once told me he would be back before I knew it. I believed him. I thought he was going to come back. Now I know. On February 18, I was told the four biggest lies of my life.

I had just gotten home from school, and I was happy because I was getting my driver's license the next day. Not to mention, I'd had an excellent day at school. The test I was worried about the night before ended being open-book, and my friends had surprised with an early birthday present. I had dropped my bag on my bed, changed into comfy clothes, and turned on the TV. I was just about to turn off the TV, when my mom had walked in. We're going out to dinner tonight she had told me. What's the occasion? I had asked. Just dress nice, sweetie she had said.

I had gone to my closet, and skimmed my dress section. I had picked a light blue skater dress with simple grey flats. It had reminded me of winter, that dress. We had headed out to my older brother's favorite restaurant. We had sat in his favorite booth, I should've known then something was wrong.

I had ordered a salad and a cup of soup. My brother had ordered the same thing. For dessert, all four of us had split a piece of chocolate cake. I had just finished my last bite, when my parents and Fagan told me. Fagan had been drafted. Drafted to the army. Drafted to fight in battle. Drafted to a fight he wouldn't win.

They, my parents and Fagan, knew it too. They knew there was a slim chance of him coming back. They knew it was a death sentence. I had started to cry then, and didn't stop crying for a long time. I'm still crying inside.

He had to leave on my birthday. They had forced him to. He didn't want to go. The alternative was life in prison. I had told him to take the prison sentence. He had told me he didn't want that kind of life. He had told me he was strong, and he was coming back. I had believed him. I knew he was strong. I knew he was strong.

My parents and I had not celebrated my birthday. I hadn't wanted a celebration. The updates on the war had gotten worse and worse. We had known then that the army and Fagan wouldn't win. Everyone in the country knew it. The enemy was too strong. Stronger than Fagan.

Two weeks later, they had sent us his body. Mass energy grenade. New weapon, they had told us. I had cried until I could no more. Fagan's room had still smelled like Fagan, his bed had been unmade, and his desk had been scattered with papers. He had just graduated college. He had so much left.

His funeral was like that of any hero of war's. They had fired off a salute, had buried him in a military cemetery, and had folded a flag over his coffin which held his body. I had to say goodbye to him. I had said my goodbye, and had put a sunflower on his grave. He should have taken the life sentence. He should have taken the life sentence.

We didn't win that war, we lost eight million lives for nothing. We lost eight million lives over greed and power. We lost eight million lives over something that doesn't matter. Something that won't ever matter. Something stupid. I lost Fagan for no reason at all.

A.N.~ I hope you guys liked this story, it was really sad writing it. I'm going to update His Name Was Ben soon, so stay tuned!