The Worth of a Sacrifice

“Was it worth it?”

Jason looks up to me. A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes meet mine. Once upon a time, those deep, blue vibrant pupils would win over any girl on campus in a heartbeat. Now though, they’ve grown dull and grey.

I guess that’s what happens to a person when they kill their father.

“Worth it?” he asks, face placid. “It was necessary.”

I swallow. The man – the boy – I’d once known was nowhere to be found in those words.

Necessary.

Jason believed his own words, of that I was certain, and he showed no signs of remorse. Had he repressed his own feelings in favor of the greater good as he would call it? Would he, time permitting, ever be able to come back from this?

The press had already conducted their usual orchestra of lies and deception, of course. Tomorrow, the headlines would tell of a psychopath son who’d snapped and murdered his father. A father who had been the savior of his country, the hero of its people and the leader of a new revolution.

A father who was an example to all others.

A father who could be trusted with your deepest secrets.

A father who…

Who was a lie.

Jason and I are the only ones still alive who know the truth, I’m pretty sure. The others had conveniently passed away in workplace accidents or apparent suicides. No one had made the link between the seemingly random deaths that had taken place.

And why would they? People died every day, they had just been a few more drops in a bucket that has always been overflowing.

And now there’s just the two of us. I’m not sure if Jason’s father would have been able to kill his own son, nor his lover, but Jason hadn’t bothered to wait and find out. Rather than being the son of history’s greatest lie, he’d chosen the mantle of the hated one and had ended the lie.

“Did you do it for me?” I asked. “Or for the world?”

Something changes in Jason’s eyes. The smallest of twitches, the teeniest of emotional response to the one person in this galaxy to still love him. Maybe it was a facade after all, this detached state of being he put up.

“The world would be gone without you,” he answers. “This was the only path for me. For us.”

I taste salt trailing down my lips as I lean forward against the reinforced glass, getting as close to Jason as possible. I hate that I can’t touch him, can’t feel his breath on my skin, can’t sense his warmth as he hugs me one last time.

“Laura.”

I tense up. There’s a warning in his tone. A warning that forces me to compose myself, act indifferent, betray no emotions. I glance briefly at the camera monitoring the room from the corner and I imagine the men in the next room observing me intently. Wondering if I’m still attached to the world’s most hated man. Calculating if I pose a risk or threat to humanity. Debating if I would seek revenge for what would happen to Jason later today.

They are right to be cautious of course, because I would definitely burn down the world for Jason.

But I won’t. Jason had made his choice. He became the sacrifice that had taken the first step. I will not let that sacrifice go to waste.

I compose myself and stand up, ready to leave the room. I flash my fingers briefly, sending my final words to Jason in a way only he can understand. I see the curls of his mouth twitch in understanding and I know now the old Jason is still there, the facade a way of saving me from repercussions.

His face disappears as the door shuts closed and I am left alone in an empty hallway. The sterile walls and lingering smell remind me of a hospital. In a few hours now, Jason will be dead and I will be the only one left alive to know the truth.

This final moment with the only man I’ve ever truly loved has awakened something within me. The last fragments of doubt and confusion had evaporated as I’d left that room, and in their place had come purpose and a path.

Jason’s father had only been the beginning, his death nothing but the first gear to start turning in the complex machine that would soon become a cornerstone of mankind’s history.

A door opens, and a stranger donning a long, white lab coat approaches me. “Miss Laura Everstorm, my name is Dr. Vernan. I’ve been assigned to conduct a follow-up questionnaire. Follow me please.”

I nod and follow Vernan to an adjacent room. It’s a simple one, with nothing more than a table, two chairs and a camera. No doubt they’ll be feeding this footage to Jason to gauche his reaction, see if they missed anything important.

The doctor sits down opposite me and adjusts his earpiece, listening to those on the other end intently.

“Miss Laura, what is your relation to Jason Everstorm?”

“I’m his wife.”

He simply nods. “How would you say you feel towards him?”

“He murdered his father,” I say. It’s a non-answer, but they’ll draw their conclusions nonetheless.

“What was your relationship with Jason’s father like?”

“He was a father figure to me as much as he was to Jason.” That would satisfy as a response. It even was the truth, just not in the way they would think.

“Do you know why Jason killed his father?”

To save the world and your sorry asses. “I don’t.”

The questions continued for another ten minutes, but none of them were the right ones. They were so focused on Jason and his motives that they never once considered to switch perspective. It never occurred to them to question the very hero they so worshiped.

How had he risen to power so soon? How had he so easily convinced governments of warring countries to approve of his demands? How had he…?

How could such a man drive his own son to the point of killing him?

But they never asked. Their worldview wouldn’t allow it. It would break them.

No, someone else would have to step up and do what is necessary.

And in the end, when it is my time to sit upon that chair and face my imminent death, when they ask me if it was worth it…

I’ll say yes.