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My Hero: A Short Story

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I sat by his hospital bed, but I couldn’t look into his eyes, for fear that the once warm glow in his gaze had been taken and replaced with a cold dead stare. It had been a long road down to get to this point; each step just got worse, everyone getting weaker till they snap. At first I was numb, I couldn’t consider the thought losing him, to live a life without my hero. When dad came home with the news, when all the cards fell down and the walls burnt and charred till they didn’t exist. I felt nothing. I know that there should have been something else there. Everyone around me was sinking, but I was staying afloat. I didn’t know that I was just paddling for my life in a sea of reality. I was in safe mode, refusing to accept the truth. I wasn’t ready to lose my father. He had always been there for me, we were more than just father and son. We were best friends, and for some strange reason, I was his only friend. My dad couldn’t make friends, my guess was that he put up to many barriers, stopping anybody getting close. He didn’t have a very good upbringing, he spent his youth caring for his deaf parents. Heavily bullied, he learnt to hate people. That everyone except family was the enemy. But he deserved to have friends, people other than me. After all he was my hero. He couldn’t push me away, I was his son. We became best friends. I had grew up as a mirror of him, we had the same humour, and we had the same taste in music, movies and food and everything else. I had grown

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