[ WP ] Write a story about a hero with a tragic end .

The glock slid easily from its holster, as always. Jake had done it enough times at the range during qualifications, it was just muscle memory now. The faces that passed him were a blur of fear and panic. For some reason, the red of blood on their bodies was in sharp contrast to every other color, standing out like neon. His radio squawked more garbled transmissions that he could n't be bothered with after `` shots fired.'' The smell of cordite and blood mixed into a foul stench that filled the air. Jake's legs moved without his consent, carrying him toward the sound of shooting down the corridor. Every single part of his being was screaming at him to run in the opposite direction, but his legs carried him even closer to the drumlike beat of gunshots. He rounded the corner and saw the figure holding the rifle, standing among the fallen bodies. 
 
 `` DROP IT!'' Jake's voice thundered, startling even himself. He leveled his pistol and slid his finger onto the trigger. The figure turned toward him, rifle raised. Jake glimpsed his face as he turned. He did n't look angry or determined. He just looked scared. Jake did n't even remember pulling the trigger. 
 * * * 
 Words circled through Jake's head as he sat on the bed. The past weeks and months had dissolved into a drudgery of interviews, shooting boards, and the endless news stories calling him a hero. How his quick response had stopped the shooter from being able to take any more lives than he had. Five was still too many. Their faces, shown on TV as waxy-faced reporters speculated on matters they did n't understand, now visited him in his nightmares. But one face he saw every night, without fail, right before he woke up in a cold sweat. A scared kid, dressed in black, holding a rifle. 
 
 Hero 
 
 He looked at the medal on his bed stand, given to him by the chief with a solemn nod and a firm handshake. 
 
 Hero. 
 
 The faces of those he was n't quick enough to save. 
 
 Hero. 
 
 The face of a scared kid who's life he had taken 
 
 Hero. 
 
 The glock slid easily from its holster, as always.
