*Hattie*
Friday morning, I feel like I’m walking under water. Every breath takes so much more effort than it should. Each moment presses against me with the weight of inevitability. Inside, I’m unraveling and longing for home. I miss my little sister Nina most of all.
Why am I here if not to change the outcome of the battle? The Battle of Bunker Hill. I know about the high body count, the valor and the tragedy. But none of the textbooks ever mentioned Eric Thomas. None of them said: And a man with soft brown eyes and a kind, quiet demeanor, died here.
And now I know tomorrow is the day, and I know Eric Thomas will fight.
Of course he will. He’s too brave. Too good. Too stubborn.
I wanted to scream at him to stay home yesterday. I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg him to be
