Granted. In half an hour, everyone you love is murdered. The ones farther from you first, so you receive the news, then the closer ones come over to comfort you, only to be killed before your eyes by a group of thugs led by a crazy ginger with a cell phone. You use a one use time machine to jump two days into the past to try to stop the even, but given that you have no knowledge of why it's happening, it is extremely difficult for you to discover anything. You perpetuate this loop for what seems like eternity, never quite able to save your loved ones, but getting closer and closer every time, and always able to take the machine back to try again.
At some point, though, you've had enough. No matter what you try, no matter where you go, the two days simply aren't enough for you to do anything. You may be able to retain the knowledge you have gained, but it seems that this operation is far grander than you ever imagined, and its roots run very, very deep.
Finally, after seeing the only woman you have every truly loved, in the fullest sense of the word, die one to many times. You realize that you will never be able to save them, that all has been for nothing. The horrors that you have faced were in truth for naught. You might as well never bothered. You had always wondered this, but you had always hoped for the contrary, always told yourself that as long as you tried your hardest, you would be able to save Megan. It had worked throughout your life. Your grandfather's advice had never once let you down before. You won countless scholarships as a child, attended Harvard, gotten your dream job as a the chief librarian of the Loksborough Lavish Library.
But no, you mustn't reminisce. None of that mattered now. Your life was nothing. Everything that had seemed to important was nothing next to Megan. Always the last to go(as if the organization had intended it -no, they must have.), you'd seen her die more times than you could ever recall, and yet ever incident was etched into your brain as if etched there by a knife.
It was all too much. That final realization, pushed down inside for so long, finally had emerged, and with its arrival so left all hope in your heart.
On Sunday, August 19th, 2012, Frederic Francis Finnegan don Juan, or, as Megan had so lovingly nicknamed him, 3FJ, took his own life, surrounded by the bloody bodies of everyone who he cared about.
I wish that I actually knew how to write stuff like that WELL.