Guilt

"I'm just not good at keeping everything bottled inside is all."

Oh how those words bitterly left the contours of the synthetic smile he plastered on.

2:41 A.M.

A dark night no different than any of the previous ones for the past week. Another week the blonde had to disguise his true compelling emotions. 
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Inside the young hero's room there was no sight of light, except that of the full moon seeping it's way through the rectangular shaped window just above the header of his oak bed. A crack is heard followed by heat emitting from the vents inside said room.
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Gazing at the plain beige ceiling, as he had for years now. The male could not pin point when exactly he had begun to have this difficulty regarding sleep. He only found himself staring at the boring colored ceiling more often, as if every night that passed added even more time as well.
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Scarlet feathers littered the cold hardwood floor. What was left of his wings were outwardly stretched from his sides almost as if they we're meant to craddled his figure. It didn't last long as the blonde swung his legs over to feel the cold floorboards beneath him. The wings fluttered opened, adjusting with the new position the hero took.
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A heavy sigh escaped from his lips. The way he had to carry himself as if he knew nothing, it took a toll on him. As if frozen in that instant, his mind rushed miles per hour. Gritted teeth, clenched fists, heart pounding so much that he felt it in his ears. He wanted peace, to relax, was that so bad? The fastest way to get to that would prove to be a challenge.
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He agreed to fracture and tear the representation he had trained, no, was trained to form. Everything he did, was it selfless? Or was it just a simple pressure of wanting to be good enough. Would he ever be? As a child he was told he had to become this, a hero, someone who can save and protect. Yet, the winged male felt as if he was doing anything but. Disregarding casualties even though he knew exactly when and where they were to occur.
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His stomach was in knots, repulsed of himself. It was one thing to be unable to save the citizens he was entrusted versus turning a blind eye from what was right in front of him. To let those lives slip through the crevices and plunder into the abyss of nonexistence. To be able to sense the life leaving, to sense the last breath of those who he swore to protect. The thought of how many lives would he have to ignore, it haunted him.
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The blonde gripped at his chest. He needed to get out. He couldn't handle being confined in these four walls with his thoughts. Swiftly, he stood up and peered through the blinds out of the closest window. Tonight had been a rather quiet night, but sometimes he found himself wanting anything but. He found himself wishing there was more crime to keep his mind busy. He scoffed at himself. It didn't matter how much good he did, how many crimes he solved, it would never be enough.   

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