John had been accepted into the army, but for you... he was still too young. You were his mother and you loved him very much, even though he sometimes made you angry, but you were strict because you loved him. One day you were teaching him how to use a knife, and he accidentally cut one of his fingers. It was something simple, and the fact that he failed made you unconsciously blurt out a comment...

"What will become of you when I'm gone, John?" Those words didn't cause a stir for you, but they did for him. When you looked up, he was looking at you with teary eyes.

You hadn't seen him like this for years, not since he was a little baby who cried and crawled into your bed at night when he sought your comfort and hid in your arms from thunders.