          show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy.
‘ honey ’ her mother calls him. her voice is soft and soothing and he’s floating in the warmth of her words. her hazel like eyes looks up at him, a childish smile on display as she stopped singing. he almost forgot her face and features, how he used to play with her long hair, dark as the deepest waters. ‘ honey, it’s about time. we are gonna be late !! ’ she said to him. her hand gently embracing his in a tight squeeze. ‘ look at you !! all dirty, love !! did you play in the mud with your friends again? ’ ah. he took a quick look to his garments, muddy, wet and BLOODY. oh lord !! if there was so much blood !! crimson velvety dripping brightly and warm from his body. he brought his hand to his chest and — and he could feel the squishy and disgusting sensation of his skin, torn apart like a piece of cloth. his mother was still smiling sheepishly at him as he felt the rust sprouting in his mouth. ‘ now let’s get you all clean — or you father is gonna be sad right ?? his boy all dirty the day of his birthday !! now — now. let’s go ! ’ he stopped. his right hand still squeezing her mother’s. tears started flooding down, his head shaking. he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave his friends, his teachers — the love of his life . ‘ i can’t leave them ! ’ he screamed. oh, he used to that when he was a kid, he used to scream from atop of his lungs for silly things like a toy he once really desired. And now her mother still looked him as if he was still a child. Her other hand caressed his left cheek, wiping away the tears. ‘ honey, sweetheart. it’s too late — you are too cold now.’
