Escape Through the Red Door

It’s a strange feeling when you know that turning back is no longer an option. Running down that long, straight road, I knew my life would never be the same. My brain felt alive, undrugged and unreal. My legs couldn’t stop their ceaseless pumping, and for the first time in my life, I felt good.
The air was still unpolluted by the sirens that I knew would soon pierce the clouds from above. They would come for me in their ships, unstoppable and dangerous. I knew, the moment I opened that red door, that today would be the day I died. The fact that escaping was so easy to do only made mw wonder more how it would happen. Even though I already knew, I still liked to ponder.
I am one of them, and so I shall die.
I could hear them now, squealing above me; without looking up, I pictured hem in my mind, those black ships that blocked out the sun and cast bleak shadows over the ground. How many had come for me? I didn’t dare count, because I planned to keep running until the end, and I couldn’t let myself trip.
This was my last stand, my only cry. I wanted to be heard before I hit the ground.
I am one of them, and so I shall die.
People were lining the streets of the city to see who was fighting for them now. I wanted to shout out at them, ask them to help me. But I knew that those who might were underground, hiding, as I used to be. No longer would I cower under these streets. No longer would I hold my breath and wait for a hero that was never going to come.
I knew now without a doubt that the hero was me.
Maybe a hero doesn’t have to save the day, fly away alive, unhurt and safe. Maybe a hero can die for his country and still free those under the spell. I would be the one to shake that black hand, the one to stand up and show that dark man that there will always be those who fight back, those who will never give in with a smile.
I am one of them, and so I shall die.
But I will not die walking. I will die running, fall to the ground with my legs still pumping and with the sweat still pouring down my cheeks. And when those dark faces loom over me, blacking out all light, I will blind them with my bravery. They will remember me as the hero who died with his eyes wide open, irises reflecting the harsh truth of their tyranny.
They will not forget me.
I am one of them, and so I shall die.