[WP] Whenever someone commits a murder, the victim's life flashes before his eyes, instead of the victim's eyes.

I was born at the start of that decade we'd later know as "The Roaring Twenties." I don't remember a whole lot from back then, but I do remember that we were happy. After the markets crashed, though, my parents started fighting a lot more. Whenever I was around, they tried to act as though everything was alright, but I knew it wasn't. Eventually, my father got laid off. He tried finding work, but he wasn't having any luck. After a while, he stopped trying and started drinking all day instead. My mom started looking for work at this point, both as a way of trying to find us some money and as a way of getting away from my father.

Then one summer's day, while my mom was out, someone came to the house. I hid in the upstairs hallway so that I could listen without my father knowing. Long story short, the bank was going to take the house from us the next day to resolve some of our debts. My father was furious. I thought he was going to kill the man.

After he left, there was silence in the house. After about ten minutes, my father rushed upstairs. I quickly hid in my room and pretended I had just been playing with my toys. He stopped just outside my room. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. I prayed to God that he didn't know that I had heard the conversation. He finally opened the door, and I saw his smiling face. He told me that he needed to show me something he had been working on in the work shed. Cautiously, and without much of an alternative, I went with him.

Once there, he opened the door and had me go in first. I entered nervously. He quickly slammed the door shut behind me and bolted it. I slammed my fists against the sides of the shed and pleaded with him to let me out, but he was already back in the house. I figured this was some kind of a punishment for listening in on him and the man from the bank. I would soon realize that the reality was far from the truth.

About half an hour later, my mom came back home. I thought about yelling for her, but I was too afraid of what my father would do if he heard me. They wasted no time in starting another one of their arguments. Suddenly, there was silence. Those few moments were some of the longest of my life. I then briefly heard my mom screaming hysterically before the sound of a gun shot tore through the air. And then another. And then silence.

The police found me in the shed, shaking from shock. They put me up with my mom's mom, who lived on a farm in the country. It was hard for me to leave my friends and school all behind, but it was nice to finally have some stability in my home life. Grandma was the nicest lady, though she made me work real hard to "earn my stay" as she put it, though always with a smile. Pretty soon, I started school again. Most of the other kids were mean to me, but there were a couple who made an effort to be friendly.

One of them was Janice. She was a bit of a tomboy; in fact, when I first met her, I thought she was a boy. The others were always telling her that "A girl shouldn't act this way, you should be thinking about dresses and playing with dolls." Not that anyone could afford that sort of stuff during the Depression.

We would often play in the woods behind my house. When Grandma called us for dinner, we would often be in the middle of building a fort or playing castles and dragons. The best, most memorable nights were the ones when we would just lie in the field and watch the stars come out. I would always remember the loss I had experienced as a child, but on those nights, I truly felt like I could carry on. It was on one of these nights that I kissed Janice for the first time.

A few years passed, and we entered high school. War broke out in Europe, but America still wasn't involved. I often thought about going into war, like all the boys did. But for me, I was happy just where I was. I suppose this was also about the time Janice and I had started being a real couple. We never really said it to each other, though. We'd been together for so long that we just knew when it happened.

We married not long after graduation. Unfortunately, grandma was sick in the hospital and wasn't able to see the ceremony. She died not long after, leaving us with the farm and me devastated.

A few years passed, and America was in the war. Janice and I talked a lot about it and whether or not I should join the army. A lot of the people we had gone to high school with were joining, so I felt the pressure. I'd often walk through the streets of the nearby town and gain disapproving looks from the elderly folks. They all thought that someone my age should be out there fighting. News from overseas sounded desperate, and a need to fight began to swell inside me. Janice, after a lot of persuading, finally agreed.

I'm going to fight. I'm going to fight for a better world for my beloved Janice.


I looked down at the man's body before me and wept. I hated doing this. These people I had killing were too real to me. My nearby CO saw me and grabbed my shoulder. "Son, I know it's hard, and I'd be lying if I said you ever get used to it. But it never lasts with you for long. Remember we are fighting for the glory of the German empire. When you return, you will return with honor." He was right. I shook it off and carried on.

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