When Ducky confirmed that I was dying, I decided to make a list of all the things I hadn't done.
I decided I would write out one hundred things and then try to do them before the day came when I would be too ill, in too much pain, suffering too much, to do anything, except pray for death.
I told myself I would say all the things I'd left unsaid.
I told myself I would put right all the things I had made go wrong.
I told myself I would let people get near to me.
I told myself I would stop obsessing about my father's death and the man whom I believed caused it.
I told myself I would not leave undone things I should have done.
I told myself I would live for whatever time I had left.
I told myself one hundred things was a good number; an achievable one.
I told myself I would do them.
I told myself so many things.
But in the end I never did write the list.
I never did say the things I should have said.
I never did attempt to put right the things I had made go wrong.
I never did let people get near to me.
I never did stop obsessing about my father's death or the man who had killed him.
I left undone things I should have done.
I didn't live in the time I had left.
One hundred things might have been a good number; an achievable one.
But I didn't do them.
I have never believed in karma or knowing when you're going to die, or a time for everyone to go. But I won't be returning to DC; at least I won't be returning alive.
Of that I am quite certain.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Set at the beginning of Judgment Day. Jenny is about to leave DC.