November rain and the opalescent moon blanketed me in a cold white. Skeletal trees lined the avenue, no life or movement known. I was alone, my only company being the luminous stars in the sky.
It had been like this for as long as I could remember. Alone. Hungry. Desperate.
The streets were my bed, the night sky my roof. The closest thing to a house I had left. I struggled to contemplate what ‘home’ actually was anymore.
Big Ben struck midnight. The witching hour. The time of night where the dingy streets of London were avoided, for it is feared that those you are most afraid of will become known. For me, I don’t think that way. For after all, I am the person those are fearful of. I am the monster.
I sensed tonight was different from the rest. A clear shift since the sun had collapsed into the far horizon. Something was out to get me. I felt its presence. I always knew I would face it sometime, I just never anticipated that it would be so soon.
Sweat erupted across my face and palms. I felt the warmest I had in a long time. Usually, I would be thankful for this, but this was bad. Whispers in my head became louder, my brain filled with narcissistic thoughts. Why me? Who was this person I had become.
Breathless, I stumbled to stand on my crooked, bare feet. Numb and bruised by the abusiveness of the power approaching me, I looked around. The street, lit by the dim lanterns on poles forced into the ground many years ago, enclosed me. With the little ability I had left, I ran for it, stumbling down recognised streets, hurling around repetitive corners. The roads never-ended, as if that was their purpose. I couldn’t give in. Respiration distorted, my whole body numb, I pushed forward. I felt nothing . I was always told I was blind to emotion and I believed it, but in this moment, I let sadness wash over me like it never had before.
Frantically searching for an escape, I stumbled upon the last corner. I pressed my back against the firm wall and fell to the ground. My fingernails gripped along the course edges of the wall. The presence was closer now. I had no time left. No hope.
Tears stung my eyes, bleaching them a dark red. I accepted this. Maybe empathy was what I had been missing all these years. And yet it took me until now, my last moments, to realise how deprived I really was. From the world, from everything. Life was just not fair.
A sharp movement grappled at my heart, lurching me back. Wincing with pain stronger than I’d ever felt before, I succumbed to the immense force I had been avoiding. ‘Just know,’ I rasped to no-one in particular, ‘just know…. that even though I didn’t have the best of lives, I still get to die a hero.’