Self-proclaimed Hero

Killing is justifiable, wouldn't you agree?

Those were the first words I had heard from my older brother and also the last as he was being led to his death chambers the night before his execution. I had only been three at the time but I could still clearly remember the determination burning in his auburn eyes. My parents sat at my two sides sobbing as he was led away but I simply held his stare. I would never forget that little discreet smirk he flashed me as the door banged shut behind him. The next day, my parents went back to retrieve his body and I wasn't allowed to tag along nor go to the funeral.

That was almost eleven years ago now. My parents were dead and I was the only living family I knew off so far. I lived among the other orphans in my community in a dilapidated house at the end of the street in our neighborhood. The place was appalling and irritating. The pungent stench of excretes and vomit in the air were almost overwhelming for my nose so I had grown accustomed to wearing a face mask at all times, even while I slept.

It was around the early twentieth century and so far, the African Americans were slowly regaining their human rights. We weren't quite there yet but it was a good start so far. The blacks had settled down in their own homes and still lived in terrible conditions but it was better than being slaves to wealthy white men. At the very least, we didn't have to fear being beaten every single day.

"The community I lived among was one of the many black communities that had come around as blacks were allowed to go off to live independently. It was a single street but better than nothing. Every building had, at the very least, five families living in it sharing resources and space. It wasn't unusual because of this living arrangement for fights to take place every single day over the smallest things. It was pure chaos but I loved it. It was home.

Sufiyan?"

I slowly looked over my shoulder away from the book in my hands. One of the orphans I lived with, Muna if I'm not mistaken-I was really bad with names-stood behind me holding a small tattered book in her hands rocking her body from side to side almost like she was about to collapse.

"Can you-?"

With a fond smile, I waved her over to my side. She accepted the invitation with a gleeful smile throwing herself unto the ground beside me.

For the next couple of hours, we read the book she had brought stopping at certain points when she got confused by the phrasing of the sentences or the pronunciation of words. I tried to be incredibly patient with her. Muna was a bright and sweet girl who had only come to start living with us a month ago after here entire family died from a strange illness. I had discovered her love for books after I caught her in my room slipping through one of them.

"Sufiyan?" I looked up at her in acknowledgment as a sign to go on. "What do you think makes a hero?"

Her question caught me off guard for a second but I tried to answer her question with my little knowledge of the subject. "A hero would be someone that helps people if I'm not mistaken. They risk their lives to protect others."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, just because they want to do so or maybe they have a reason."

She looked down at the book with a calculating gaze before looking back up facing the busy street filled with laughing children. "What if it means doing bad things? What if you have to hurt a lot of people to be a hero?"

I watched her eyes go back to the book in her hands. "My dad killed my baby brother." Muna threw her head back looking up at the sky. "We were going to travel through a white man's land and he kept crying and my mum couldn't stop him. My dad took him from her and went into the bushes. When he came back out, my mum burst into tears."

I watched her carefully as her eyes continued to stare at the sky. I watched her eyes fall back on me and a strange glint that I had never seen before was laced in her dull brown eyes. "He's a hero, right?"

I thought about my brother who had gone on a killing spree all those years ago in a gang who called themselves the 'Enchiladas'. He had a kill count of fifty people-the highest in his gang. They caught him in the homes of his last victims sitting in an armchair twirling his weapon around in his hands. He had let them arrest him with no struggles and admitted to his crime with no remorse. When all his victims turned out to be white men and their families, it was clear why he had killed them. To the public that is. When I studied each of the families separately, I found out the real reason he had gone for them.

"Yeah," I looked at her with a fond smile, "he is."

***

It was so unexpected and unforeseen. One minute, we were all fast asleep in our beds. The next, everyone was fleeing for safety while bombs were dropped down on us killing the vast majority of us. I had woken up to the younger ones screaming. I ran out of my room and began to herd the orphans out of the house. Our care keeper was no where to be seen and I simply assumed she had abandoned us and run off when it all started.

"Is that everyone?" I asked chasing away the last of them with the other who had already sprinted out.

"I haven't seen Muna!"

My heart fell. I dashed back into the house running straight for Muna's room which was in the basement. A bomb had fallen close by destroying a part of the house. Jumping over fallen bricks and debris was not easy. I finally got to the door to the basement and attempted to pry it open but it wouldn't budge.

"Muna! Muna!"

"It's no use! Part of the ground above fell in front of it!"

"What about the window?!"

"Blocked! Just go before another bomb hits us!"

"I can't just leave you to die!"

"If you stay here, you're going to die and you're the only fully capable one who can take care of the rest! Staying here wouldn't be very heroic you know."

I froze at her words feeling myself begin to choke on the tears threatening to fall. "Muna..."

"I'm going to die here, Sufiyan. If I don't, I promise I'll find you guys. You have to go."

I knew she was right but I just couldn't acknowledge the fact that there was nothing I could do to help her. I just had to do something...

"There is something you can do for me though. It's a bit selfish but...it's something I've been thinking of lately."

I pressed my ear against the door urging her to speak.

"I want you to-"

***

I bundled up the last kid in some blankets I had managed to snatch helping them settle down into a deep slumber. It's been a month since our home was destroyed and today was the first night we had been able to find a place where we had no chances of being found. We had managed to gather supplies as we moved around. We had lost a few of us in the past one month during our journey. We still had no idea why those bombs were launched but one could take a good guess.

Once I was sure everyone was asleep, I faced the other older ones who were all huddled up around a fire pit. I took a seat with them staring straight at the kindling fire. There were only seven of us from the ages of fifteen up to eighteen. You would wonder why I was the most capable among us being the youngest. I just had more knowledge and experience than the others.

Muna's death had taken a huge toll on me. Her last words rang endlessly in my ears every single day almost pushing me to the brink of insanity. I had relayed her words to the other six who had only listened without giving any replies or comments. I couldn't really blame them seeing as it was one hell of a wish from a girl so young.

"Are you really going to do it, Sufiyan?"

I forced my eyes to look away from the kindling fire looking at the faces of the other six all looking at me waiting for my reply. I sighed sitting up straight cracking my knuckles to ease the tension in them. I know that whatever I said at that moment would be the decision they would all decide to abide by. It was a bit overwhelming for my words to hold such power over them but at the same time kind of exciting. I leaned forward towards the fire and held my hands over it. The flames barely kissed my palm warming it up. Still maintaining the same position, I looked up through my eye lashes which had grown out in the past month throwing at them a cunning smirk.

"We've lost our families, our friends, our home. We have no where to go. There's no where we'll be certainly safe at. They want us dead. An object for them to use is what they see us as. If we're still going to die anyway, what do we have to lose?"

Humanity be damned, I'm going to be a hero.