[Year 19 of Exile]

I remember it all.

The terrifying sounds of bones cracking and being crushed. The horrifying squelching and slicing of flesh and skin. The massive amounts of red that stained the tracks. The strands of long hair that got caught in the wheels of the train.

Traumatising. That's what the doctors at the modern hospital diagnosed my 'adventure' as.

"It's all too gruesome a scene. And what more would you expect from a 5-year-old that saw it —  with his very own eyes."

I'm scarred for life.

Seeing how a mess of flesh and red remained at the same spot after the train had gone, long hair whipping in the after wind, I knew I had done wrong.

It was wrong from the start to have wanted to travel back in time.

And now, I had caused someone to die.

"So who was the one that pushed him off the tracks?"

The doctors at the hospital are such busybodies.

"It was a girl."

I could only tell that it was a girl from the long, black hair.

"The boy blames himself, I just know it. I may not be his father but I know."

Who wouldn't?

"You shouldn't."

Huh? A different voice had entered my thoughts. A voice that did not belong to the meddling doctors or Uncle Boxian.

"You don't have to feel guilty any longer, boy."

I whirled around wildly, suddenly realising that I was in a white space.

"Hey there."

I snapped to the direction of the voice and I stumbled back, landing on my .

A girl with long black hair, dressed in a navy-blue shirt and white skirt, was sitting on nothing. She swung her legs while one hand was on her lap and the other...

"No way..."

...was patting the blue horse. That very same blue horse I wanted to see.

It still looked the same as it did when I first saw it at four years old. It would have been a plain, normal horse if not for its body colour of blue.

Celeste-blue.

"You've grown up well." My eyes averted back to the girl, whom I believed was the one that spoke. "My death wasn't in vain."

Her death.

"Y-You're the one! You were the girl that pus–"

"Yes, I am." A smile formed on her face, and her eyes crinkled in crescents. "And I'm glad that my push wasn't for naught."

She pushed herself off whatever she was sitting on and kneeled down in front of me. Her eyes held so much emotions that I felt that I would drown if I kept returning her gaze.

"I suppose you've been feeling guilty ever since that tragic day?" Her tone was soft, not betraying the anger that she must have within her.

I nodded, and I dropped my eyes.

"Well then it's time for me to forgive, and for you to forget and move on."

My eyes widened.

"Boy, actually you didn't have to feel guilty at all. In fact, you ought to be proud of yourself."