Inside the elevator I can feel the air tense up. It only has one button on the inside of it, one destination. Best thing of all is that it is completely unlabeled. Huh, sounds like some crazy metaphor for my life. One way to go. One true path, one ending. No retries, restarts, or second chances. My mind has forgone entirely the drugs within my system—the sickness in my brain, even the impending doom of my desire to continue walking. As that elevator rises, I know I’m meeting my end. Whatever form it may take, I lean my head back and close my eyes as the doors open.

Warmth reaches my cheeks. A light behind my eyes shines faintly as the oranges of the sun outside fill the innards of the elevator. As I open my eyes I see a canvas stretched far out wide. I never was one for sight seeing, but knowing—just knowing it was my last sight, I saw the marvel at the orange sun painted across the sky. No smile came, for this sight was anything but acceptance. I’d been fighting those stages all my life, and this, as enthralling as it looked, could be nothing more than the full form of acceptance. Of myself, my situation, and my future.

Outside, far from the death traps of below. Do I deserve an end as beautiful as this while Grace is down below, and Tom is crushed to death? No, not in the slightest, but at the same time that is exactly what life is all about, right? If you could dial life back to a few short moments, right here...is everything life has to offer.

I take a step out onto the terrace. I am overlooking a vast city—dozens of stories below. Life looks like it really...should be. In that moment, I freeze. Seeing the people on the streets on their own schedules—life looks...normal. This looks...normal. Cars driving, even this sun...this was never for me. How could I...be so foolish. This sun was never for me.

I feel a deep heat inside my throat. I try to swallow and feel only numbness as my body tries to feel around...like a foreign agent invading what little control I have left. can feel myself breathing faster, everything feels so hot. I feel like I'm back in the incinerator room and the jets are each firing off on me for about a million degrees each. I remember the pain that girl who died in there went through. I see Grace drop to the ground. My eyes are closed and I can see her somehow—back down below. She isn’t breathing. I open my eyes and the sun is suddenly...so bright. Too bright. I begin hyperventilating.

I was so close...just fucking should have killed me two minutes earlier and I would have been fine. FINE. Now I’m seeing everything out in front of me. I could have made it. I could have...made it count for something. Making it this far should count for something, right? Making it...making it…Ugh, fuck. My head...it’s pounding.

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That's not fair! This isn't fair! Fuck this and fuck Leto and Fuck my dad and fuck everything!

Two figures stand before me now, the young child, Megan to my left and the fully healed figure of Leto to my right. Looking at them both together the resemblance is clear now. They're in my head, and I can see them both as they both whisper out, "Hero." A crack shatters across my vision as I fall to a knee, everything shakes around me and the air tastes like lead. My head feels as if it is on fire, and I'm so irrevocably warm. So very warm.

"Hero, our hero," they repeat.

"I'm not your hero!" I scream out, ripping my shirt off, it is too hot, I'm too hot. "I'm not anybody's hero! I'm just a fuck up and I don't even want to be here!"

"Hero, our hero."

I turn my back to them, scrambling across the terrace until I reach the edge, hopefully looking at something else other than the sky will help. I look out over the edge, I must be like, at least fifty floors up. Down below I can see the specks of people that walk in their daily lives and drive their cars.

Denver.

The name pops into my mind, and I don't know where from, but if it's true, if this is Denver, then that would make this building the Republic Plaza. I'd read about it when I was younger for this charity event that I was a part of in elementary school.

I feel like I'm the Human Torch, like a fire has been lit inside of me and it is boiling me alive. It hurts me I cannot remember Megan, or even remember the fact that she died, but how could she have been here if she was dead? I'm not her hero. I'm not anybody’s hero. I failed everyone and everything. Addison's dead because of me, I let loose the security lock. And Tom wouldn't have died if I didn't insist we jump the elevator shaft.

I move one foot off the ledge. I'm no hero. I'm no hero. My body feels like it is going supernova, and then it goes dark.

I'm no hero.