Chapter 7 – The stars shine in a white light

Page's blood mixed with the grass. It smelled of earth and iron. As if to set the scene, the moon shone like a spotlight highlighting the protagonist. Everything was black and white.

Page herself hadn't even reached the age of forty.

The cat was still there. Page could hear the meow, and then the splashing of the muddy puddle.

"It looks magical. The sky." Page had never believed in magic, but this looked like thousands of fairies dancing.

The stars reminded Page of her mother, father, and sister. Her family, the ones she loved so much, she sacrificed everything for them.

For the first time in all of Page's forty years, she reflected. She thought about how she had lived only for others. She wondered and guessed.

"Have I ever done what I wanted?"

"Could I have done more? Maybe less? Did I do too much? Try too hard?"

"Is my life thrown away? When I am gone, will Lily remember me?"

"I hope she won't feel pain. Her happiness has to be protected."

With each star telling its own story, Page's vision blurred. But suddenly the cat came close. Her eyes reflected in his and his in hers. The stars and moon shone in a white light.

Meow.

This meow was the last sound she heard, the black cat the last thing she saw. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel but was blind. One after another, her senses vanished. First, the smell of iron and rain disappeared, then the rustling of the grass, and lastly, she was freed from the shackles of her pain.

Page died. Her vision went black, and she lost all her consciousness, as if someone had turned off all lights.

Suddenly, she found herself sitting in complete darkness. Little particles, like dust, shone in all colors, and one star shone in front of her.

In her hand, Page held a quill and pen. The book was long and thick, like a novel. It had about 80 pages.

In golden lettering, the title shone: "For my sister."

She smiled. "Yes, these fit."

She touched the letters. "If my life's goal, motivation was put into one sentence, it would be 'for my sister'."

Page began to open the book. But there were no words, just pictures, moving pictures. While reading, it was as if you were experiencing the moment.

Page had burned her hand, trying to save her sister. She had felt pain, endured hours of disgustingness. Blood, mangled bodies, people pleading for their lives.

"Page was no good person." Page thought of herself as disgusting. In this little world, with only herself, she realized a dark truth about herself.

Her life was presented like a mirror. She saw what she did, what she sacrificed, focusing solely on her sister's happiness. She protected her one fragile heart, but sacrificed dozens.

"The lives of the people that Page took." She touched the image.

"Page is nineteen. It is the third of July. Page killed the first ever human." By doing this she had lost her last piece of her own emotion. She could feel empathy and the urge to protect the happiness of her sister.

"How narrow-minded Page had been."

Page after page, memory after memory, our protagonist read through her life. She could reflect on how wrong she was, how many people she killed.

"One receives what one gives." A poster had two people on it. Page in her memory looked at the two girls. "Reincarnation of the soul." That was the title of the movie Page never saw.

"If Page receives what she has given, she would be reborn as a witch, a villainess."

Page turned a few more pages.

"Ugh. Page shouldn't have lived like this."

More pages were turned. She was about halfway through.

"If Page had never existed." Page thought, forgetting herself. She could only reflect on her actions but draw no connection to herself. Page seemed like she had forgotten who she was. Did she even know she existed?

She flipped pages, commenting on how wrong Page had been. Soon she had reached the end.

The last pages were blank.

She looked at the star, the star did nothing. "More. This can't be it."

Still, the star did nothing. "But Page has to, well, she has to… Page needs to get a second chance at life. She needs to see this."

It was silent.

"No! Page needs to see this. She needs to know how wrong she was. She could reflect and then repent. But she has to be happy."

"Didn't you see?" She pointed at the book. "Page was never happy herself." But her hand began to move the quill.

"I lived my life, it was…" The quill, pausing, waited. At the moment Page thought of the answer, the quill began to move and wrote down her answer.

"…sacrificial." The quill wrote her name. Page knew she was writing her name. She saw the P, the a, and then the g-e.

"Page."

Page was written, and the book closed.

With this, Page had lived her life, and she herself was gone. The moment the book closed, all the memories Page had of her sister, her mother, father, and loved ones vanished. All names became blurry, and her world was forgotten. Only a few factual things stayed.

Every connection, emotional or of any other kind, vanished. The girl was now a blank slate.

"Someone has to repent. They have to find their own happiness. This is what counts to protect."

"Someone has to understand. They need to know love and happiness."

"Someone…" The girl stopped.

"Someone…" She wondered. "Who?"

Everything stopped. She sat there, repeating and repeating. "Happiness needs protection. Own happiness!"

"For the own happiness that it counts to protect!"

The star began to shine, and a book appeared. In golden letters on a cover with red roses showed the title "For the happiness that it counts to protect."

With this, she had set the scene for her next life. There was just one problem.

When the girl opened the book, there was something. It was not empty. It was filled. Only the last pages were blank.