You know? I never thought about my life or what would I do with so much time on my hands. When I was proposed to be what I am now, the thought of what would my life be in five hundred years in the future never really crossed my mind. I could barely guess what could be of me a year in advance, maybe five years, but not five hundred. Or a thousand.

I never really dwelled on the thought that I would live forever.

That's a scary word, because it implies an eternity living with yourself, with your mistakes, and sometimes that's enough to make you think twice about it. But I didn't. And for a while I didn't regret it. I was young, powerful, eternal; I could be whoever I wanted to be, whatever I wanted to be. My price? Becoming an infamous mystery, a legend, forever blamed for crimes I didn't commit; but it is something I am willing to pay.

The regret? Not so much.

Because as I now see his face in front of me, the soft light of the moon coming from his window, his pleading eyes full of dreams and youth, all I can feel is sour regret. I have seen this face many times and this request has been asked of me in so many ways. I have lived this moment more times that I wanted to, having to go on with the regret of my mistake. And I will live forever with it.

Was I willing to try it again?