A hero in turmoil

A failed interception

I didn't see the kid
I just saw the man who had smiled in the face of the newly dead and reacted in the only way I know how. I pulled the trigger. I watch the life exit his eyes in the time between a breath. the notorious mad mans smile wipe from his face, slowly, like paint running down a canvas. I smiled in the face of the newly dead rapist, collapsed on the floor of an alleyway. 5 bullets left in my revolver. It must've been some 30 seconds before I heard a voice full of innocence say something barely above a whisper. 'Papa'. My head moving with breakneck speed from the corpse to the small child, I noticed that he was wearing a plain white t-shirt that was tucked into ill-fitting jeans, only the t-shirt wasn't as white as I believe it once was, the child was almost smothered from head to toe in a crimson mist, with a clear view in between the Crimson of his face from where the tears of pain had glided. A witness to an art that only myself am aloud to view. I panicked.
4 bullets left in my revolver.