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Warning: The following journal entry has been marked "Offensive" by a reviewing committee. This offensive nature includes, but is not limited to, discussion of suicide and many other manners of death as well as the writer's personal experience with torture.

Beginning of entry.
They call us heroes. It's supposed to give us some inflated sense of self so we don't lose our minds when we see nothing but bodies all day. People can die in so many ways. You don't really realize just how many ways someone can die until you start seeing the weird ones. Guns are pretty expected but it's not most of what we see. We see a lot of jumps. With so many skyscrapers it's easy access to a balcony to fly away from. There are the overdoses. Drugs can do some shit to your body, trust me on that one. Getting hit by a car is one of the worst ways I think you can die. Our cars don't go fast enough for you to die quickly. Then there are the more personal ways. Strangulation, being beaten, stabbed twenty-three times. Those are personal deaths.
I write all this to say that I am the reason some one is going to die today. I've spent the last eight years with people in my ear telling me that murder is never the solution. If it comes down to it, we are meant to die in the street rather than kill a criminal. But this man did something that even HQ can't excuse. He tortured me. He drugged me, tied me to a chair above a shower drain, and let my blood drip down it for two months. And now he's going to die for it.
I never wanted to be the reason someone died. I never wanted to be the reason I see a new way to die. Public execution. That's one I haven't seen. There are so many ways to die and today, if I wanted to, I could see a new one. But I worked so hard to be a hero so I don't want to see someone die today. No matter what he did to me.