It seemed as if it were yesterday when we still had 3 months until the war. But now there were only 3 more days. 3 days, which disappeared as fast as one. I did not want to die, 'cause I was too young. Also, I did not want Liamur to die. But there was even more confusion about victory and defeat, between life and dead. Without that I knew it, tears ran down my cheek. Please, I prayed, please, let us stay alive. Please, please, please. I did not know to whom I prayed, yet I hoped to become hillside.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist. "I love you," whispered Liamur. "I love you," I whispered. Liam, that was my nickname for him. "You're crying," he said, and started on a tear. I threw everything I had set myself on board, looked at the ice-blue eyes and began to sob uncontrollably. It took me a hug and patted me reassuringly on the back. It did not help, because I realized that he was troubled himself. "What ...?" Liam suppressed my question with a kiss. That kiss was not real. Pure desperation came through it and let myself fall back into darkness. When we parted from each other, I asked: "What's wrong?"
I was trembling all over. Liam said: "We do not have 3 days more."