𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘; WHAT COULD'VE BEEN BUT NEVER WILL BE
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— MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, Reese Logan thought the impact she was leaving behind. To more than half of the world's six billion inhabitants, Reese Logan was nothing. A nobody. Just a figure passing by, unmemorable and easily forgettable. She would be called a tragedy, reduced to a paragraph in the obituary section of the newspaper that people would read and then just as soon forget. Maybe mentioned for a second during small talk, but never thought about for long periods of time. Her peers would mourn, stare at her empty seat and think about the girl that had once sat there, but soon they too would move on. One day a student would sit there, and no one would think anything of it. Her face would become blurry. She was blonde — or was she brunette? What was her name again? The world would continue spinning, everyday life would continue, until Reese Logan would disappear from everyone's memories. And yet, unbeknownst to them, Reese was a hero; a savior of her people. She was sacrificing her life for the sake of the many. But nobody knew that. She was okay with that, truly. Her descendants would fall in love without even thinking about it, they would pass peacefully in their sleep after living a good, long life. And they would know nothing about the girl who gave them that.
Reese thought about this as she stared at her so few possessions, knowing that all of her stuff was pretty much meaningless to anybody else. With just about three days left, she'd decided to sort thtough the things she deemed important into piles. Reese had put certain things aside for Elizabeth, the twins and Flynn, but she couldn't stop staring at the rest of her things. The signed poster of Green Day that Mallory had gotten her for her birthday when she turned fifteen was important to no one else. It was simply trash to those who didn't know the significance, and that was what Reese was having trouble coping with. All of these things that showed who she was as a person were now trash. No one cared about the poorly drawn smiley face on a wrinkled sticky note, the medal from her soccer championship in the second grade, the crinckled poloroid picture of an orange tabby cat. All of these things that were treaures to Reese would find a new home at a landfill. It took every ounce of control she had not to cry.
A knock at her bedroom door made Reese glance up from where the remainder of her belongings that were in an unorganized mess on her bed, Flynn's head poked in and she frowned when she saw the cardboard boxes with labels like clothes to donate and pictures for the twins.
