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At times I begin to feel my life as I have lived it is a Greek tragedy. No matter what I do, fate reasserts itself, inevitable as the coming of winter. I am desolate, empty, wasted. All the effort I put into showing my true feelings and desired has been for naught, as repeatedly I tried to tell them I was on their side only to have them distrust me still. Yet can I blame them? Yes, I have done evil things in my life, that is true. But as I said, it was the hand of Fate pusing me to do so. I am reminded of a line frome Shakespeare's Juius Ceasar: "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with the bones." I have killed him. Would that I could bring him back, or die myself in hi stead. I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear it. I have killed him. My brother. I did not know. All Father had told me was that I was to rig a building to explode. I did not know Fox would be in the bar, having a drink. I did not know Fox was my brother. Too often I have blindly followed orders without question. I thought I was doing the right thing. And now Father told me with a slight chuckle that Fox was my brother. How could he laugh at a thing like that? Curse me for a fool! I should have known. I attended the funeral, a shadow amongst the trees. Poor Dana was beside herself. I wanted to speak to her, for her comfort or mine, I knew not. But I knew all she'd hear was that I was responsible for her partner's death. I can't say that I blame her. Is a man defined by the intentions that lie in his heart, or by his outward actions and what appear to be his motives? In the end, which is it that ultimately matters? I will avenge Fox's death. I will kill the one who is truly responsible for his being in that coffin. I will clear the slate. It was not I who was responsible for the death of my brother. As I have told you, I did not know. END |
Euripides I:
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