I guess I knew all along that it was going to happen. Sephiroth. Jenova. Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo. Her death. But still she wouldn't blame me. Why? Wasn't I the cause of it?
I didn't understand, and possible never will.
But now the dreams have come.
In my dreams, I see her die. Only it's not by the hand of Sephiroth she falls, but by my own. It's me that's descending, me that's plunging a sword through her breast.
Tifa says I'm just pushing myself too much lately. She says that it wasn't my fault. But, in a way, it was.
I could've pushed her out of the way, taken the blow for her. I could have blocked the sword. I could have stopped her from going. But I didn't. I simply stood there and watched, watched as she died. As she was murdered.
I write these words now in the hopes of someday atoning for my sins, for my lack of foresight. But I know it can't happen. I know she forgave me. I know they all fogave me. It is I who can't forgive me.
Barret says I should have fun, take a load off at the Golden Saucer. I can't. I see her smiling face as we rode the gondola together those years ago. I see her frightened face from when we stayed at the haunted inn. She didn't want me to see, but I did. It simply made me love her all the more. Everything she did made that happen.
Perhaps, one day, I WILL be able to atone, to forgive myself. But that day has not yet come. It may never come. If it does, perhaps I will be able to see her smiling face when I close my eyes to sleep, and the dreams won't plague me with doubt and self-anger.
Someday I may finally be able to rest.
