When I was young my mother always said to have courage. She was my role model, my hero, I looked up to her.

She died.

She was so invested in the idea of courage that her last words to me were, “Have courage and be kind, my darling.”

I did no such thing.

At first I tried, really I did, but on my second day of high school I gave up on the kindness part, but I kept trying for courage for a whopping three days until I let that dream drip drop by drop down the drain of broken promises.

I had promised her I would try, but she promised me she would stay, and if she couldn’t keep her end of the bargain then why should I. It’s petty, I know. It’s not like she could help being shot in the stomach, but it’s easier to make up excuses than admit to myself that I actually failed her.

And so that’s how I got here today, a coward who has crashed and burned and now has found themselves in a bit of a tight situation. You see what happened was I was out on the streets minding my own business as usual, ok I lied, I was pickpocketing, but that’s not the point. Anyways I was walking around town minding my own business when this guy whisks me away into an alley immediately putting a knife to my throat.

Now I do illegal things every day, it’s how I survive so if you’re going to judge me then you can shut it.

Now this is not an uncommon situation for me, and despite the man’s muscles that are clearly showing through his long-sleeved white shirt, I grin. This was my man.

The man who killed my mother.

“Fancy seeing you again,” I chirp not threatened by him. I know what he’s going to do. I’ve caused him too much trouble all these years for him to let me go now.

The answering smile he gives me is absolutely feline as he presses the blade into my throat just enough to draw blood.

And in this moment, as I’m about to die, I don’t even flinch.

I might be dead in mere moments, but for once I’m not a coward.

“I’ll see you in hell dad.” I whisper hoarsely as the silver blade of the kinfe slides across my throat.