[ WP ] Tell the story of the hero who always saves the day and is loved by everyone , but from the point of view of an innocent person who has had their life ruined by that hero .

I know you love him. EVERYONE loves him; why would n't they? He's the `` good guy'', the one that `` saves the day'', the one people can `` count on.'' 
 
 Can you hear the sarcasm? 
 
 Look. No crime is justifiable. If it's illegal, it's fucking illegal and you should n't do it. But sometimes I really wish whoever is casting judgment, whether it be a judge or society or Mr. Superhero-Goodguy over here, would take a step back to figure out WHY said crime was committed. Because sometimes, there's a really good reason. Sometimes, people do n't listen to you when you ask, cry, beg for help. Sometimes, you do n't have any choice but to take matters into your own hands. 
 
 My dad was a junkie. Heroin, crack, meth, you name it. Anything he could smoke, snort, inject or huff, he did. My mom and I left him when I was fifteen, in the dead of night when he was passed out on the kitchen floor in his own vomit and shit - it was a daily occurrence. Mom made sure that afternoon that all of my things were packed in the three suitcases we owned. She carried as many changes of clothes and hygiene products she could fit in her two oversized purses and had them in the trunk. We left without looking back. 
 
 Well, until my sixteenth birthday. That's when she realized she left the necklace in her jewelry box. It was gold, real gold, and her mother had given it to her when she turned sixteen. But my dad snatched it off her neck one day when he was high on that night's drug of choice and broke the clasp. It was fixable; Mom had just never had the chance to take it to the store to have it repaired. She tried to go back for it, even snuck in the house when he was with his dealer to try and grab it. But it was gone; all that she found was a slip from the pawn shop he'd sold it at - for a measly $ 350. `` That just adds insult to injury,'' she sobbed. 
 
 Six months later, Mom died in a car accident. My grandparents were my next of kin but they did n't give a fuck - they thought we were wrong for leaving my father in his `` time of need.'' ( I should probably mention that they're my paternal grandparents. ) They let me live with Jonie, my boyfriend, so long as I left enough of my belongings in their spare bedroom and came to their house when requested to appease Social Services. 
 
 Jonie broke into my dad's house and grabbed the slip from the pawn shop. But we were n't allowed to retrieve the necklace without buying it back at their price - a whopping $ 4500. We consulted with a lawyer, even went to court. But as a minor, there was nothing I could do, especially because Mom never separated from my father. They were legally married until the day she died. 
 
 We tried contacting Mr. Superhero-Goodguy as well. If he ever got our messages, he did n't reply. I guess it was n't important enough or there would n't be enough media attention for his good doing for him to want to help us. So we did what we had to do - we took matters into our own hands. 
 
 I was making nightly trips to my father's house and stealing whatever cash he had laying around. It was never much, and I never told Jonie - I did n't want him to worry. Every other day, I went to the pawn shop to check on the necklace. After eight weeks of pilfering money, I had enough to make a down deposit of $ 350. But I still did n't tell Jonie. I was going to... Eventually. 
 
 It was October 2nd. It was 12:58am and it was cold. I was wearing a thin jacket that the wind seemed to cut right through and flip flops. My jeans had rips in them. I was walking home from my father's house when I heard the sirens. Four seconds later, I saw him: the wonderful, amazing Mr. Superhero-Goodguy. Hear the sarcasm again? He flew over me towards the sirens, he must've been twenty feet above me at the most. And then I realized: the sirens were coming from the direction of the pawn shop. 
 
 I picked up my pace and stopped in front of Jonie's house. He normally got home from work around 1am; his car should've been there, but I probably do n't have to tell you that it was n't. I was about to go inside, desperately hoping to find him inside when I heard the gunshots. They came quickly, one after the other. I counted six. Then silence. I was frozen in my spot, heart hammering in my chest. Eight seconds after the shots ceased, there were more - so many that I could n't count. 
 
 I took off running. The pawn shop was a ten minute walk and I made it there in under three minutes. There were so many lights, so many squad cars, at least a dozen police men. I saw him, Mr. Superhero-Goodguy, off to the far right, past the throngs of people that had gathered. The front window of the shop had been completely shattered, and I could make out Jonie's silhouette in the darkness beyond the broken window. 
 
 I started pushing through the crowd. A few people muttered and grumbled in annoyance but I threw my elbows out and keep moving forward. When I finally reached the front, police officers were frantically pushing the crowd back. I scrambled to see past them, to get some glimpse of what was going on. And I saw him, Jonie, with a gun in his hand, eyes wide with fear. And I saw Superhero-Goodguy focusing his laser weapon on him. 
 
 `` JONIE!'' I screamed. His eyes flickered wildly until they found mine. He was crying but forced a crooked smile. His sandy hair flopped in his eyes and clung to his forehead. He began to lift his right arm; the gold chain he was holding reflected off of the light of the police cars. I started crying, the kind of laughing-crying thing that happens when you do n't really know what to do. 
 
 `` HE'S GON NA FIRE!'' an officer bellowed. The hero activated the laser at the same time I screamed, `` NO!'' and lunged forward. 
 
 *** 
 
 Maybe that does n't make him a bad guy. Maybe he saved the day for someone. But he did n't for me. He took away the last thing I had on this planet. 
 
 And he did n't even let me keep the fucking necklace. 
 
 ___ 
 NOTE: this was typed on my phone. Please excuse any and all typos.
