The war has been going on in my country for as long as I can remember. Men sacrificing the most precious thing that they hold dear, for the sake of their ruler and people.
I have been locked in this room for the last two years, and my only outside contact is the crack of sunlight that shines through the walls and under the door of this cell. I receive a meal once a day for nutrients, and I have not laid eyes on a single person in a year and 11 months.
I was a warrior for Magnus Kingsman, who was believed by his people to be a fair and wise ruler. He hired me to spy on the troops outside our borders and go and steal various envelopes as well as other classified tasks for him. I was honored to do so until the very last mission.
I sit here in my cell everyday, with nothing but my own guilt to keep me company. I stare at the pattern of brick on the gray wall and imagine my wife and children. I can hear footsteps coming down the hall as they approach my room. Realizing that it is early for my meal, I grow curious. But instead of my daily meal, an envelope slips under the door of my cell. This is something I had yet to see: any contact from my family.
It takes all my strength to crawl over to it.  I pick up the envelope that seems to have some discoloration from age as well as mistreatment. I flip it over, and hold it up to the light to reveal my name in my wife’s handwriting. I know that I am probably imagining it, but as I read the pages while straining to see them, I can almost hear the sound of my wife’s voice, and smell her perfume. As I read, I try to  imagine her smooth skin on her beautiful face as my hand grazes her cheek. Her smile so sincere, the sun isn’t even as bright. Her beauty is unmatched by every other woman I had ever seen. I love her with all of my heart.
My children, Daniel and Sarah, both not yet teenagers, are in the picture that is sealed within the envelope that I open. Daniel has my dark hair, but my wife Natasha’s bright blue eyes. He is nine years old now and he is the most beautiful little boy I have ever seen.
Sarah has my wife’s perfect skin and warm smile. She has long blond hair that flows past her shoulders. She is about six now, and she is very smart and curious about everything. In the photograph, Sarah and Daniel are both dressed up in their Sunday clothes, but they are both playing on a playground. A playground I remember all too well.
When I was a little boy, my father would take me to that very playground, and that was where I would spend almost all of my days as a child. I loved the squeak of the swings as though it were a song that only I understood the words to. I loved pretending that the small pebbles beneath my feet were boiling lava, and if I dared touch them I would sink into the abyss.
It was at that same playground that I met the love of my life.
It was a normal day, and as I was hopping from the slide back to the latter, I saw a flash of blonde hair. She was wearing a bright blue sundress, and black Converse. She was riding a hot pink bike with a purple helmet with green polka dots.
It was as I was staring at her, I lost my footing from the edge of the tallest part of the castle that stood in the middle of the playground. I fell to the ground with a thud, and to my utter embarrassment, I scraped my knee, and was bleeding.
“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” the girl yelled as she rushed to my side. I could see a great amount of concern in her deep blue eyes.
“I...uh… yeah… I’m alright,” I said to not look like a fool.
She began to laugh at my fake tough guy impression. She looked down to avoid my eyes, and when she did so, she caught a glimpse at my knee. She seemed calm but scared. Her eyes grew wide.
“Stay here,” she instructed, “I am going to go get my mom, she’ll fix it right up”
When she came back, she was with her mom, who had a little red box in her hand. Her mom opened the box to reveal a white bandage and a tube of ointment. She then knelt down next to me as I sat there holding my knee, trying to stop the hot thick blood from running down my leg. She took a clean paper towel, and cleansed my knee, and also applied a layer of ointment and bandages to my open wound.
I couldn’t feel the pain of the cut, due to the distraction of the girl standing beside me. I could feel my heart as it pounded with in my chest. I began to fidget with my hands, on order to channel all of my nervousness in an inconspicuous action. When her mom was done, they both helped me to my feet.
“What is your name?” I asked the girl.
“Natasha, but a lot of my friends call me Nat. What’s yours?” she replied with a grin that covered her face. Her eyes lit up when she spoke, and it took my breath away.
“James.” I said unable to suppress the grin raising the edges of my mouth. As I spoke to her, her long blonde hair was blowing in the wind. It reminded me of wheat that sways when the wind blows. Her face had no makeup, she was just simply beautiful. The freckles that spread across her face, and the blue eyes that were intently focused on me only added to my attraction. It was then that I realized and my life was forever changed.
That feeling of happiness is something that I haven’t experienced in a long time, but viewing her hand written note, and receiving information about my children, is enough to provide me with hope. With the letter in hand, I begin to reread what Natasha had written to me.
Dear James,
I miss you dearly. Daniel and Sarah have just started school, and I am constantly reminded how fortunate we are to have two wonderful, beautiful children. Every night I help Daniel with his math homework, and wish you were there. You are so much better at math than I am. Sarah has just started her piano lessons that we talked about, and she really loves them. I mean, not so much the practicing, but the music that comes out.
We all miss you, and I can’t bear another day without you by my side.
I love you,
Natasha
As I read the note, all I feel is guilt. I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek as I realize how much I miss my family. My children are being forced to grow up without a father, and that is my biggest fear and regret of all.
After reading the letter for the hundredth time, I ask myself why I am getting this now. Looking at the letter, it is dated for just over two years ago. I should have received this letter before now. It suddenly becomes clear to me that my captors have kept this precious letter from me. It seems as though they are using it as a memory to provide me with hope. This hope can then be manipulated so that I will tell them information to betray my king. They are asking me to pick my family or my king. Reaching this epiphany, my cell door suddenly opens. A man in all black with a mask stands in the doorway.
“Get up!” he yells at me.
Being weak from malnutrition, I am unable to stand. I continue to lie here on the ground in a daze, unable to focus.
“Get UP!” he repeats.
Again I can’t move.
Viewing my weakness as an act of defiance, he picks me up by my shoulders and drags me out of my cell by my arms like a bag of dirt.
It is while I am being dragged, I fixate on the pain that has reached my shoulders from the force pulling them. It feels as though my arms could just be pulled off if it continues any longer. The feeling is all too familiar, for the last time I was transported this way was the day that I arrived here.
It was about two years ago that I was captured. It was a normal day in the troops outside the borders. The sun was shining, and that was the day that the mail came from our families. Natasha usually would send me letters, as well as various pictures of Daniel and Sarah, both of whom could never realize how much I missed them. On that day sure enough, as I entered the dining hall there was a letter addressed to me.
It was on my way back to my quarters from the dining hall, that my commanding officer stopped me.
“I have a cleansing mission for you lieutenant.” he said to me.
Fear struck my heart, and I could feel heat reach my cheeks.
“Ready to serve, sir.” I replied as I saluted him, trying my best not to show any resent or fear. Whenever the commanding officer wanted you to for a “cleansing mission,” it struck fear in the heart of the recipient. A “cleansing mission” was a fancy term for assassinating specific targets of interest that were assigned to you. He would send these assassination missions over the enemy line, trying to kill the leaders of the opposing army, but no mission had ever been successful. Many of our men have died in this pursuit, but my officer would never relent - the mission had to move forward.
“Meet me in my office in an hour.” He said and walked away.
It was after this encounter that I began to come to the realization that it may very well be my last chance to say goodbye to my children and my wife. I sat down to write them a letter as my final words to them - as I was fully prepared not to return. I felt smooth paper beneath my hand and the pen in my grasp. I began to come up with everything that I would miss about my children. I thought of Natasha and how she had never faltered a single moment. She had always been my rock, and the only thing that I could think of is how much I have disappointed her and our children.
I write:
Dear Beloved Family,
I am so deeply sorry. I have not been there for you when you needed me, and I do not deserve your neverending love.
Daniel, I want you to take care of your sister. I want you to treat her like the princess that she is and nothing less. I want you to always be fair to those around you, whether they deserve it or not. I want you to be a good person, and never do as I have done. Be there for everyone you love, and never leave. I have faith that you will be a strong man and I am sorry if I am unable to see it happen.
Sarah, I love you more than you can imagine. I want that brightness in your soul never to leave on any account. I want you to never give in to something you know is wrong, and always follow your heart. I want you to lead your own life, and be whomever you dream, because you are capable. Oh my are you capable! Never give up my darling, and I will always stand behind you until the end.
Natasha, you are the love of my life. From the first time that we met, I knew that I could never stop loving you. You are kind to everyone you meet, and you are the mother of my children. I want you to know that whenever I felt scared or worried that I wouldn’t make it home, it was your voice telling me that I had to, that I had to make it home. I would imagine you embracing me as I walked through the front door of our house countless times, and it was that image that gave me the strength to push through.
You have to know that I am about to be deployed on a mission that does not have a great success rate. It is very dangerous, and many men have died trying to accomplish this difficult task. I am writing this letter in case I don’t make it home. In doing so, I want to express to each of you how sorry I am for leaving you then, and now. Know that, in the end, I will be thinking of you.
Love your father, and loving husband
James
With that last sentence, tears began to roll down my cheeks. With the hot streaks upon my face, the taste of salt water reached my lips. I was so ashamed of how I had let them down, but I knew that in order to make it home, I would have to achieve the impossible.
After almost an hour, I did as I was instructed and met my commanding officer in his office. As I entered, I could see that his face was straight and showing no emotion. He stood in the center of the room, with his eyes intent on the door. His uniform was immaculate, and his entire jacket was covered in medals he had earned in the field of battle.
“Finally, I have been waiting forever.” he said as he turned to the chalkboard hanging on the back wall of the office. On the board were a list of instructions and a battle plan that I assumed were mine.
“On this chalkboard are the conditions for your assignment. You are to set up on a nearby hill, and observe the enemy camp. You are then to wait for instructions where you are to shoot their commanding officer,” he tells me.
“Yes, sir,” I said making sure to imitate my commanding officer’s lack of emotion. I was making sure that the fear didn’t become me, for I would have to be the first to succeed at this mission. I would be the first to make it home.
And with that, he handed me a manila folder, full of the information needed to complete the task that l stood before me.
“Thank you for your time,” he said, quickly dismissing me.
When I finally returned to my cot, I tried to make sense of the mission that was assigned to me. I read the intel on my target and memorized the best time in which I could make my kill. I was supposed to view his tent from a nearby hill, and take him down when he woke up at dawn. I was to spend the whole night on that hill waiting for my target to show himself, all the while making sure not to get spotted by the sentries guarding his position. I familiarized myself with the security that they had patrolling the perimeter of the camp, and realized that I would constantly have to be moving in order not to get caught.
I set the file down and held my head in my hands. This was not how I was going to leave this world. This enemy was known to shoot on sight of any suspicious activity, and only a few poor souls were captured and tortured for information.
When the time came for me to carry out the mission, I was dressed in an all black suit, and my weapons consisted of my M40 rifle, and two small pistols that I hid in my vest. A man was waiting for me at the edge of the base.
“Are you ready?” he asked with a sad smile.
“Are you really asking me that?” I snap back at him. “You know as well as I, the chances of success in this kind of mission.” I get in the back seat of the vehicle that was waiting for us. The man that was waiting for me got behind the wheel and proceeded to drive me to my predetermined drop off location. We drove past nothing but sand and desert plants. It was almost beautiful, the sun setting over the dunes as the sky lit up like fire, as reds and oranges covered the entire sky.
When we reached the drop off, my heart was racing. As I stepped out of the vehicle, I looked forward to a three mile long hike to where I was to set up my gear. The man gave me a not-so-convincing smile. “Good luck, and see you in about 8 hours, when the mission is complete” he said as if he actually had hope for me. I knew better.
“Yeah,... right,” I say as I begin the long walk ahead of me. Over five different hills, with hardly any cover, this terrain was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. Despite the difficulty, I was able to avoid the eyes of the enemy.
After I set up my weapon, I took a deep breath. I have made it this far, and I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Just as I looked through the scope of my rifle, I saw my target emerge from his tent. He was wearing his uniform with medals covering his entire jacket. He had a shaved head, and may have acquired his position based on his size. Compared to his surroundings, the commanding officer seemed to be about seven feet tall, and an extremely muscular build. His jawline was chiseled, and from the look on his face, he was angry with someone.
I lined up the cross hairs onto the back of the commanding officer’s head, just as he was walking out of his tent. I could hear my heart pounding, and a drop of sweat was forming on my forehead. My adrenaline was extremely high, and the rest of the world melted away, I was completely focused. I took another deep breath and placed my finger on the trigger. In my mind I counted backwards from three.
  3...2...
That is when I heard the click of a c***ed gun, right by the edge of my head.
I turned around with my hands up in order to see the owner of the gun, and he was wearing an enemy uniform. It was in this instance that I knew my life was going to end. In a matter of moments, I felt a great force contact the back of my head, and the world went dark.
When I finally awoke, I was in the very cell that I had just left.
I could feel the rough hands of the man that was dragging me to an open room. He proceeds to tie me to a chair as I am completely and utterly limp. I couldn’t fight him, and I couldn’t find any desire to.
“Hello,” another man says as he stands in the shadows. “I hear that you have some vital information for my associates. It’s time to open that mouth of yours .”
“Go to hell,” I say as I spit in his direction. “I will never betray my country, you will have to kill me first,” I still had my dignity and would not fall victim to cowardice.
“That can be arranged, but first, tell me of everything that you have stolen from me and my comrades,” He says with a hint of villainous laughter laced with maddening rage. Next to him I notice a table full of various instruments that I know can only be used for one thing: torture.
“I owe nothing to you! ” I say knowing that I have made peace with all of my demons. Before my capture, I was able to provide closure for my family, and I knew that I could not live forever. Although I desire more than anything to stay alive for my children, my life to save millions is well worth dying for.
“Very well,” the man says as he lifts a tool from the table of horror. I do not recognize the instrument in his hand. Refusing to give in to fear, I don’t even look at the object but right in the man’s eyes as he approaches me. I want him to know that I am not afraid. I stare at him for what seems like an eternity of anticipation, until the pain starts. It starts in my feet, and slowly rises up my body. Every single nerve feels as though they are encased in flames, but I refuse to cry out. It is difficult to see through the pain. As the terrible events continued, my captors continue to scream at me, trying to get me to reveal the secrets they know I know.  But I refuse to relent.  This “game” goes on for hours, until finally I realized that I could not take it any longer, and they were not going to stop.  I know that I am about to die.
“Natasha, I am sorry,” is all I say until everything goes black, and my heart ceases to beat.