Alone, I lie locked up in this room, waiting, with nothing to do but heal and plan. I also have time to contemplate my decisions. Being left behind was tough. It was my choice, but still. Every time I recall that memory of the last ship taking off I feel like crying. On that day I got down on my knees and cried and begged you to come back for me. I punched the ground and shrieked. And only part of me was acting. Perhaps, that’s why I was so easily accepted here. Now I wish I refused the task.