After that fight between my parents, nothing special happened. At age 2, I could understand and speak some words, but not very well—just fine and “Enough”… and I could finally roll around, but it took too much effort to do so. We have a neighbor who visits our family a lot; they have a son and a daughter. Their son looks older than me… a lot, maybe 2 or 3 years older, but their daughter looks as old as me. We are… kinda… friends? It’s not like I, a grown-up, would befriend a child… I’m just being kind, hmp.

  Few months have passed since we became playmates… it’s not like I, an adult, would befriend a child… it’s that I feel bored, and I found more friends too. I don’t hate it… we are not that much of a crowd; we are totally 7 children… well, you wouldn’t expect this small village to have too many children.

  I finally understand my name and my parents’ names. My name is Kaile, my mother is Martha, and my father is Ronald. I can speak now and walk on all fours easily.

  In the short times I was taken outside, I learned a few things. Except for the village chef and general facilities, there are 19 houses and 4 commercial buildings such as an inn, tool store, grocery store, and a small apothecary which sells spices and herbal plants. Our village is surrounded by walls made of logs, which are supported by planks as pillars to support it against ramming. I didn’t take a look outside, but I will look around when I can walk and go outside.

  A year passed, and now he was able to walk—but not for long… UNTIL THE FLU struck, probably carried by mosquitoes or animals… or the recent merchants’ caravan… no one knew why.

  But it was obvious, an action must be taken. Adults kept children in houses, kept the infected away, used herbs… but nothing ever goes according to plan. Some got infected, some died, some left.

  Autumn left and winter came, but the epidemic was spreading. Food reserves became short; hunters didn’t hunt because of harsh winter and fear of the flu.

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  When the flu was over, 4/15 of the village population was gone—dead or left the village.

  i-I can’t believe it… my friends… they died… i-isn’t… THIS SUPPOSED TO BE MY HAPPY SECOND CHANCE, RIGHT?? WHY… WHY… THEY HAD TO DIE…

  While standing and watching the cremation ceremony, since they couldn’t be buried, he cried and murmured to himself about how it was all unfair, how sad, HOW CRUEL it was that his village people and friends had to die because of a mere flu which can be cured in a day in his old world…

  Why… why did I have to die to be reborn?? WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE THIS GOD DAMNED WORLD WHERE A COMMON COLD IS CONSIDERED LETHAL? WHY WAS I SENT TO THIS WORLD??

  As his grip tightened on his father’s hand, he started denying everything he could and blaming everything; a strange silence was forming among the attendants except for the voices of sorrow and regret.

  When the fire started to fade away, the crowd started to fade too, but until the very last moment, father and son, hand in hand, watched as if it was the only thing there was to watch.

  Ronald:

  “My dear child…” he said at last, his voice lower than before. “Remember this.”

  He tightened his grip slightly.

  “A human life… is fragile. Too fragile. A sickness, a storm, a bad harvest… and it disappears.”

  His gaze did not leave the fire.

  “There are places where this flu would have meant nothing. Where medicine is stored in abundance. Where knowledge is kept behind stone walls.”

  His jaw clenched.

  “But those things do not reach places like this.”

  A pause.

  “The strong keep what they have. The rest of us endure what we must.”

  "We are nothing more than livestock to those of Rich and nobel"

  He finally looked down at Kaile.

  “You may not understand today.”

  “But one day… you will.

  Kaile: My friends died… and you say such a… nonsense?

  Ronald:… sigh even though we asked for help from a nearby village and city… they didn’t help.

  Ronald was taken back—how could a child know such a word? But he thought nothing of it because of his own usual behavior.

  After the fire was put out, they returned.

  Five months later, he was finally 4 years old. He still held sorrow for his lost friends, but everyone moved on, doing their usual work, and chatter could be heard as if nothing happened.

  Only 5 out of 7 of his friends were alive after the flu.

  More children were born as time passed. He too began to get used to it and move on, but the tear was still in his heart