I don't know.

I don't know.

Sometimes, I just don't know.

And I hate it.

I hate, that I don't know almost anything.

Books- they are only a short relief.

A short, limited relief.

You can read a book, about stars.

But I never read just one- I read more.

I read plenty, and still, half of my questions are left unanswered.

This, all of this, might have started when Mira came knocking on my door, saying;

 ' "You will be the crocodile alpha." ' 

It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a recommendation, it wasn't a idea she'd thrown my way.

It wasn't even a fact.

She just told me, gave me my place without me having any say in it whatsoever.

As a child, I'd always love reading books.

All my teachers would admire my desire to read. They'd go to my mother and tell her; "be proud of your child- they're a fast learner."

My mother would buy me books. So, so many books.

At first, it was just a shelf of books. A few story books, ones with cute pictures for younger children, the words big and bold. Stories full of sweet and lovable characters, beating of bullies and sitting on colorful rainbows.

Then came the other two shelves, full of adventure books. They told stories of proud and respected characters, ones every child would admire. Ones every child would want to be. Everyone always wanted to be a someone to the world, to be known for good deads. They wanted it at least once in their life, to be looked up to. To be admired by others.

Then came the next shelves, the next, and the next. Humor, Drama, Horror, Romance.

And then came the ones I never had the desire to read.

History books.

I always thought they'd be boring and blunt. Just a mumble-jumble of dates and names everyone had to memorize. Just nonsense that once existed, and now is dead.

I don't know if it was this specific book, if it was the events I read about, or if it was because of the author who wrote it, but I loved it.

The way the man wrote about the events made me hold in my breath, hoping for nothing bad to happen.

But it always got worse.

The book was nothing close to happy. It was just failure after failure. Each character the author described died within the next few pages, only to let their blood spill through the rest of the book, all the way to the end.

The characters were fighting for something called freedom, something, luckily not many of today's jammers had to loose. Every character died, their failed attempts for freedom building up on each other, leading to the last standing, living soldier. The last hope, the last one who tried to grab at freedom-

Surprisingly, he died on the last page.

Up until that moment, I was always used to reading happy stories. Stories with morals, stories that ended with a hug. I always read about how the main character would get what they wanted, and would fly away without a worry in the world.

I never noticed how stupid and fake all those endings were. I never knew all those endings weren't real.

That one history book was like a bucket of cold water to me. Woke me from the stupid dream I thought was reality.

I started reading more history books.

There was failure, and there was success. Not everything always went along with the plan, but not everything failed.

I shared the same book with my brother. We were very close, extremely close.

He was just a year older then me. I'd always look up to him in the past. He'd always been proud of what he did, he'd always had something he wanted to gain; a motivation (that I often saw as a simple distraction from reality, but what do I know?).

He didn't like the book. He said there was no actual story. Non of the characters achieved anything, non of them gained anything from all their hard work. Non of those characters were accepted by others, non of them were respected.

This was plain gibberish to my brother.

But I could respect that.

He stuck with adventure books, I stayed stuck with history books.

From then on, I always looked at the future with confusion.

Was it going to be good? Was it going to be bad? What will await me in life?

I always wanted to work, as, well, a teacher- if possible, I'd prefer a historian.

You see, even if I set myself something impossible to reach, I still had the freedom to try it.

That all got destroyed when Mira came knocking to my door.

Now, I didn't have that chance to choose who I will be, I didn't have the choice of picking my life.

I didn't want to lead a band of idiotic animals, I didn't want to be the representation of a specific group. I-

I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore.

I don't know if my brother loved me anymore.

Ever since Mira came, he didn't want to speak with me.

I banged on his door. I pleased, I pleased him to open, to help me.

I was so, so scared.

Untill he finally opened.

He let me hug him, he let me cry on his shoulder, he let me tell him all my worries.

When I asked him why he didn't want to talk to me, he said he was just a drama queen.

I didn't understand what he meant, but I didn't ask.

He hugged me and told me everything was going to be fine.

He told me I'm going to be a great leader when I'll finally be old enough to take such a large responsibility upon my shoulders.

He told me he'll believe in me, that mother and father will always be by my side.

That everyone will love and admire me, just as everyone loves and admires the characters in his silly adventure books.

I felt better.

I put my history books to the side, decided to read a bit on what my, well, job would be in the future.

It was fine, for the following week.

I noticed one of my history books missing the next day, though.

I asked around, and apparently my brother took it. He wanted to read it, as the tittle had captured his attention.

I was happy he was enjoying one of my books.

But from then, he started being a bit more quiet. A but more nervous and hesitant around me.

I don't know.

I don't know why, I don't know what happened.

But, after a while, I walked into his room.

We both sat on his bed, and we talked.

About how everything was changing, about how I was feeling more confident with the choice that was made for me.

"I think I can be a leader. I'll still need practice, I'll still need to get ready before doing anything, but I think it might work out."

"Really?"

"Yes. And, well, who says I can't be a teacher and a alpha, aye? It might be extremely hard, but why not try?"

"...Wouldn't that make you anxious? Wouldn't that be a bit to much, a bit to hard?"

"...I guess, but-"

"Then give the role to me."

"..What?"

"Give the role of the alpha to me. I'll be able to focus better on the actual task. I've also studied plenty about all of this. I know what to do, how to do it. I'll lift all of this of your shoulders."

"Pfft, that's a good one. Imagine you as an alpha- I'd imagine you restricting everyone to give you a sacrifice of chocolate cookies every week!"

"I'm serious. I can handle this, you can't."

"...Wait, what?"

"Give me the tittle."

"No!"

"Why."

"I... I can't. Mira gave it to me. I can't change it."

"Well, I'm pretty sure if you'd ask her nicely..."

"No. What's gone to your head?"

"...No?"

"No. What's going on here, Bela?"

"...No...?"

"Bela! Why are you holding that!?"

"...What if..."

"Bela. You're scaring me. Don't look at me like that."

"...What if I killed you, brother? Here, in this room?"

I don't know.

I don't know if Bela loves me anymore.

I don't know if I love him anymore.

I don't know what to do with my life

I don't know why anyone believes that I'm the crocodile alpha.

I don't know why they plastered my face onto a rock and sold it.

I don't know why I'm not free to choose what my life will be.

I don't know why people always have muddy thoughts when sleeping.

I don't know why people dream.

I don't know, how it is to dream.

I just.

I'm just-

I just sleep.

I am laying down right now, re-thinking all of this as I sleep.

I'm not dreaming.

My thoughts aren't molding into a big ball of nonsense.

But there is, one last thing that I don't know-

No, actually, I do know.

I know this.

It's no written down anywhere. It's not said in any book. There's no proof of me to read of, there's no proof for me to show.

But I think, I just think I know this last one.

I suddenly heard voices coming from behind the door.

My eyes stayed closed.

I suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind the door.

My eyes stayed closed.

I heard the door open.

My eyes stayed closed.

I heard them all walk in.

My eyes stayed closed.

I felt a figure lean over me, kissing my head.

My eyes stayed closed.

I love you.

My eyes stayed closed.

Tears started to stain the covers that were draped over me, as a set of arms hugged me tightly.

My eyes stayed closed.

'I'm so, so sorry, brother. I'm so, so sorry.'

My eyes stayed closed.

Tears were starting to spill.

I knew which book my brother read.

 "The sons of Aldric" 

A tale about two sons, Cain and Hathath.

Hathath was ment to be king.

Yet Cain murdered his brother, taking over the kingdom.

Every inch of land was then his.

Every golden coin belonged to him.

Every Jammer belonged to him.

Everything went as planned for Cain.

My eyes stayed closed.

I felt him sob louder, before two other people came in, and started to pull him away.

My eyes stayed closed.

I wanted to say ''I forgive you. I love you. You are still my brother.''

My eyes stayed closed.

I could hear him screaming, No, no, brother-

My eyes stayed closed.

Cornelius-!

My eyes stayed closed.

If I'd say:

I don't know what's going on.

That would be a lie.

If I'd say:

I don't know who these people above me are.

That would be a lie.

If I'd say:

I don't know what that beeping sound is.

That would also be a lie.

Because in reality, I knew why my brother was screaming.

He wants me to forgive him.

And I do.

I know who these people are.

They just don't know who I am.

Or if I hear them, right now.

I know what this beeping sound is.

I know, because as I feel the needle prick my skin, the beeping starts sounding uneven.

It's not short and at the same pace.

It's getting slower.

It's getting harder to hear.

I want to scream, I feel as if I'm about to throw up all my insides.

I want to say that I forgive my brother.

I want to say that I'm not the crocodile alpha.

I want to tell everyone that yes, I can hear them.

I want to tell everyone I just want to be just Cornelious.

I want to tell everyone I just want to be with my family.

I want to tell everyone I just want to be a teacher.

I want to tell everyone I would prefer to be a historian.

I want to tell everyone I am still here. I'm inside here. Don't leave me.

But I just can't.

Beeee-

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to thank the author of that book for all he has done for me."