His voice faltered and trailed off. “What happened?” Jonas asked again, after a moment. “Please tell me.”
The Giver closed his eyes. “It broke my heart, Jonas, to transfer pain to her.
But it was my job. It was what I had to do, the way I’ve had to do it to you.”
The room was silent. Jonas waited. Finally The Giver continued.
“Five weeks. That was all. I gave her happy memories: a ride on a merry-go-round; a kitten to play with; a picnic.
Sometimes I chose one just because I knew it would make her laugh,
and I so treasured the sound of that laughter in this room that had always been so silent.
“But she was like you, Jonas. She wanted to experience everything. She knew that it was her responsibility.
And so she asked me for more difficult memories.” Jonas held his breath for a moment.
“You didn’t give her war, did you? Not after just five weeks?” The Giver shook his head and sighed.
“No. And I didn’t give her physical pain. But I gave her loneliness. And I gave her loss.
I transferred a memory of a child taken from its parents. That was the first one. She appeared stunned at its end.”
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