Annaise feels nauseous, like she were on a boat that had been consistently swaying with the waves. "That is much worse with another person," grumbles the Reaper to themselves. Annaise almost opens her mouth to ask a question, but then she remembers to keep quiet, and her teeth bite down on her tongue again.

They see Annaise looking a little befuddled, so they add, "Time traveling. Well it's not really that; it's more like . . . traveling to one of the many possibilities of any event nor occurence. But you can go to the past or future, so I guess it's slightly like that, in a way."

"Oh," Annaise says dumbly. She didn't really know how to respond to that.

"Right now, we're in the future, perhaps twenty years or so forward. Except in this version, you're alive. Look now, to the left."

Sure enough, Annaise saw a woman that resembled her walk by. Her hair still cut in the same way Annaise had it now. It covered her head messily, like she spent hours simply running her fingers through her hair. She hears her older self yell, and the people behind her join in. Annaise reads the sign that some people in the crowd hold. Majority of the signs had "STOP PRESIDENT LEE.", "PROTECT THE LGBTQ+ FAMILY", and "LGBTQ+ ARE PEOPLE TOO."

This protest is for the LGBTQ+ people?

But we've gotten so far, Annaise thinks, why now?

"Do you recognize the name of the president Annaise?" asks the figure.

Lee . . . whose surname is L-

"No," Annaise blurts in understanding. She looks at the hooded figure, and they nod solemnly. Although she couldn't see their face, she almost knew for sure that the Reaper's face was in despair.

"The one and only Valentine Lee," grunts the figure.

No, Annaise thinks harshly, he doesn't deserve it. Out of all the people, he doesn't deserve to be our president.

Annaise always knew Valentine hated gays. He used to call her one as an insult. It wasn't the fact that he called her a lesbian hurtful; it was the fact that he thought that word was hurtful.

And that same boy is president of the United States.

Annaise relates this to high school, where everyone hated Valentine, yet they worshiped him all the same.

"We shouldn't pay attention to Mr. Lee, however," says the figure hoarsely. "Look at who's leading the protest against him.

It's her. Annaise grins proudly.

"Do we win?" Annaise asks hopefully.

"Yes, you do. As a matter of fact, why don't we fast-forward to that point in time?"

The figure grabs her hand again, but only this time Annaise felt the cold creeping up her arm.

"It's not working," the figure whispers. He draws back his hand and touches Annaise's again, but nothing happens. "No no, this has to work," the Reaper says with a nervous chuckle. They do it again. "It'll work."

It doesn't work.

"Why won't it work?" the figure hisses. Suddenly, there's the sound of a gunshot. Someone from Valentine's order had shot someone else in the protest. Quickly after, people join in behind him, and together they hail down bullets into the crowd of people.

"NO!" Annaise screams in fury. She screams until she can't feel her throat; she cries unintentionally while doing so. Some of the people flee from the protest, but the rest stay. They march proudly with their heads high. Older Annaise is still at the front.

"Will you shoot another?" she yells in pure anger. "Will you commit another crime on an innocent life? Are you ready to live with that kind of guilt? The guilt of a murderer? If so, then shoot me! Then ask yourself who here did the wrong! Imagine your very own mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, being reported dead because a stupid gunman shot them without even knowing them!" She gestures to the people behind her, dead and alive. "You have no right to kill these people without even knowing if they did anything wrong! None! Of! Us! Did! Any! Wrong!"

Annaise stares breathless at herself. Never did she think she could actually do that. But now, she doesn't even have the chance.

And those people wouldn't have her there and then leading them to acceptance.

No, no not acceptance. They need no acceptance.

They just want the others to see what they see.

Then, there's a boom. It may have only been one, but it meant a lot. The older version of Annaise falls, clutching her right thigh.

"You're not dead," reassures the Reaper. "Only paralyzed on that leg."

"It's worth it," says Annaise. "If those people will stop, it'll be worth it."

"You could've been her," the Reaper says sadly. "You could've been so much."

Annaise feels a tear slide down her cheek. She doesn't answer; she only bites down on her tongue to keep her bawling at bay. Soon enough, Annaise tastes the metallic taste of blood on her tongue.

If only I just waited. If only.