It is August 15th, 2077. I, Heather Valliant, sit here writing at my desk. I sip my herbal chamomile tea, my hands shaking as I lift the mug to my mouth. There is so much to say. The violence, blood, screams… They ring in my ears. I sit here in this cozy workspace in my Pennsylvania condo, a place we bought a few years back. It is beautiful, modern, and surrounded by trees and flowers. My husband Keenan, a caring police officer, is in the other room sleeping. I’m a child psychologist; I can put myself in their shoes. I’m 25, but the horrors I faced when I was 14 feel like they happened yesterday.

In the year 2066, increasing tensions between the United States and Japan led to a world war. A new law allowed children between 12 and 17 to participate in the armed forces. I thought that being a part of something like that could cure me, make me brand new. I went into war with a boy named Keenan from school. Fast forward 5 years, both of us arrived home, alive, in love, and seemingly invincible. I didn’t know what I was in for.

3 days ago was a normal day at first. I was talking with a patient, but then I started trembling, shaking, feeling numb and disconnected. I left work and panicked, crying for hours. I knew nothing would help… Except maybe one thing. An unthinkable, sinister thing.

The next day, I decided I was sick of it all. I went over to the drawer at my desk that night, pulled out a handgun, and walked over to the mirror so I could see my face for the last time. I took one final glance at my pimpled peach skin, long black hair, and emerald green eyes. I lifted the gun to the side of my head and--

“What are you doing?!” I heard Keenan scream amongst my racing thoughts. He had come home from work. I froze, seeing his horrified reflection and my scarred gaze.

“Why- What’s-  How-” He struggled to speak through his tears. My heart plummeted as I realized what I had done. To myself and to him.

“I’m… So sorry,” I whispered, shaking. There was silence for a few moments, and then he embraced me.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured me. He understood. After all, he went to war too. It was late and we decided to go to bed. I couldn't sleep, so he held me tight as we laid there.

I ended up asleep for a good hour. Keenan woke me up early the next morning and we went on a drive. He carried the gun in his lap. I did not ask any questions. 3 hours later, there was a clear, spacious meadow in front of me. I knew this place. We fought here. But I just saw a meadow. No bodies, no blood. No odor of rotting flesh. We stepped out onto the field. Keenan handed me the gun.

¨Throw it,” he ordered. I gathered all the strength in my arm and let out a yell as I hurled the gun as far as I could. The metal smell left my nose as it became a spec in the air and fell down somewhere far away.

I shiver at what I´ve been through. I am still not okay, but I know I will be. I survived. I have Keenan, I have a home, I have a job, and I have my life. War can´t destroy me anymore. I´m stronger than that.