Hero

I’m not a hero. I’m too afraid to be a hero. There’s this sickness that twists and turns in my stomach when I look at you, and I can’t…

Oh for God’s sake, why won’t you stop staring at me? Your eyes, they’re just so fucking hopeful, but I won’t, I can’t help you. I don’t want to end up facing the barrel of a gun, I don’t want to end up bleeding my life away. Don’t look at me like that.

I’m given a gun. Told to load it, cock it. I do. Told to shoot you, and you just keep your eyes fixed on mine, blind faith, blind hope. Stop it, just stop it!

Pull the trigger and mouth I’m sorry. You look betrayed, but not for long because all emotion is replaced by pain as you lie there, choking on your own blood.

I’m not a hero, however much I wish I could be.