Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

Holding Out For A Hero

Holding Out For A Hero.

I can't believe it! My mum has just kicked me out of the house. And for what? The new baby that's inside of her because of my new step dad! Apparently, they needed a room for the baby, and another room for all of the baby's things: so there goes my bedroom and my study room. Sure, I'm 18 and I don't go to school anymore, but I'm pretty sure I want to go to university next year. Unluckily for me, I'm now wandering the streets. I have my whole life packed in two suitcases. I have nowhere to go. Oh, and it's raining - did I forget to mention that?

I run into an empty bus shelter and sit down. I'm soaked through - I'm pretty sure my bra is wet from the rain and it must be about 5°c so yeah, warm...not. I pull my wet hair away from my face, furiously trying to stop it from sticking to my face, and pull out my phone. I look through my main contacts to see if I can call anyone for help; my dad is a deadbeat. No. My best friend has moved to Paris to succeed in the art industry. No. My ex boyfriend: hahahaha. No. My mother? Ha, fat chance. I have no one. At all.

I pull out my headphones and shove them into my phone. I need to clear my head and just think about what I'm going to do...what am I going to do? I hit the music button on my phone and music begins to flow through my headphones and into my ear; at first static is the only sound I hear and then a sweet tune is replaced.

One, two three.

I breathe in and out; trying to block out the wind and the rain. I need a plan...desperately.

Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?

Clearly they all left town, otherwise I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

Where's my sweet wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

Not here.

Isn't there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and turn, and dream of what I need.

Oh fuck it, I'm so screwed. I slowly begin to cry, making my face wet yet once again in this horrible rain soaked place.

I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.

He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.

He's gotta be sure, he's gotta be soon and he's gotta be larger than life; larger than life.

My silent crying turns into a gross sobbing and I bury my head into my hands, I shouldn't be listening to a song that fits my life so perfectly but I can't stop. I feel connected to the song in such a way that it pains me until my heart feels physically broken.

Somewhere after midnight, in my wildest fantasies.

Somewhere just beyond my reach there's someone reaching back for me.

Racing on the thunder, and rising with the heat.

A clap of thunder echoes across the sky and I flinch,

Isn't there a superman to sweep me off my feet?

I look up to see lightning flash across the sky, illuminating the dull grey valley and I notice a figure down the street. It's a guy. He steps out from a building of flats and stands under the door's porch, staring at me. I can't pull my eyes away from him, they're glued to his face. His eyes scan me, I can feel them burning into my skin as I hopelessly stare back at him...what is he doing?