I Couldn't Become A Hero Novels & Stories

showing on the TV screen is a Buddhist monk preaching about being hero in other people's lives. { " most of us don’t feel heroic. Just letting through our routines can seem like a mean feat. But what if you could become more awesome with doing anything extreme for our Loved ones will not only be an heroic act but it will make the world a better place—simply transforming slowly and steadily into the kind of person you idealize? What if you could be a hero?}........" "uhn... what if I could be my mom's hero? I've gotta help myself" I began to meditate and

"Are you proud when you can master those weapons?" "Of course. I felt strong, and I was no longer haunted by fear. Since then I was determined to be great in order to be feared by my enemies. I'm sick of seeing the bad guys bother the good guys. I want to become a hero who can get rid of all the bad people from this cruel world.” Hazel grinned scornfully. “Wow, what a noble goal.” "You can think of me as a lousy liar, I don't care." “You're behaving like that again, pretending to not care,” Hazel snorted furiously.

"You didn't disappoint anyone the first time. You saved lives at great personal cost. That's heroism, not failure." "Then why does it feel like failure?" "Because losing part of yourself hurts even when it is necessary. Because grief and loss don't care about logic or heroism." I wiped her tears. "But Luna, you've built something beautiful from what you have left. Your students love you. Your teaching works. That's not failure, that's transformation." "I just want to be enough." "You are enough. You've always been enough. Power levels don't change that." Luna leaned against me. "Can we practice? Before the demonstration? So I know I won't mess up?"

Then, they'd be some lame excuse, a half baked apology if I was lucky, and then I would shed a few tears to appease my emotions, and that'd be it. Why was I pushing to be the hero of the story? I could just take the easiest route. There was this pounding in my skull, intensifying with every next one. My vision slowly blurred into a haze, and my legs felt like they would give away if I insisted on continuing to stand. I grabbed my head with both of my hands, shutting my eyes right back painfully. I wanted to scream, but I knew I couldn't. I was fighting a fight nobody else understands, and even if I wanted to open up to someone, not to anybody in this house.

The fact that no one knew who I was meant that I could be anyone and anything that I wanted. Cain had been very helpful and he was helping me with everything that I needed help with, he was helping me settle into the coven and was trying his best to keep the ones that were trying to bully me in check. He liked being my hero and feeling like he was rescuing me from something and I was merely allowing him to do that. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t defend myself, I was just trying to get used to the place before I started ruffling some feathers. However, it was now clear to me that I had already ruffled some feathers without even trying.

"But just think, Maxxie! You could be helping so many people by doing this! And I could help you!" The thought rolled around my brain. It was tempting, becoming my favourite superhero and fighting crime, or just plain helping people when they needed help. It was a way to do what I wanted, be who I wanted to be, without people making fun of the lame kid who dressed up in his mom's tights. Still, I felt uneasy about it. Jace sensed my hesitation and put his arm on my shoulders. "Just think, Maxxie. This is what you've wanted to do. Obviously you're good at it, too. So why don't you just live your dream? It will be fun!"

“Where will you go, Colin? How can you fight us all?” He was right. What was I doing playing hero? To save a girl I didn’t even like. With powers that couldn’t set fire to a fart (literally—I’d tried many, many times). I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to fight anyone, save anyone, stand up for and/or against anyone. She didn’t even deserve my help. “Is that stuff flammable?” I asked in my best I’m-not-bluffing-honest-I’m-not voice. I pointed at the lake.

The one we cannot allow to enter the field. So I had to do something. I’m no hero, but if something happens that could wipe out our livelihood, I’m not gonna sit back and watch. I clenched my fists, a little hesitant about what I was about to do. It was risky. Insanely risky. I questioned myself. Am I making the right call? It didn’t take long for hesitation to turn into resolve, and I whispered my favorite line under my breath: > “Even if I fail, it has to be from trying my best.”

“They were coming for you, Olivia. Ferro was selling your life piece by piece. What was I supposed to do? Let him?” Her gaze snapped to mine, her eyes blazing with anger and something else—something closer to heartbreak. “You could’ve found another way. You didn’t have to… to become this.” The words hit harder than I expected, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. “This is who I am,” I said finally, my voice low. “I told you from the beginning, Olivia. I’m not a hero. I’ve never been one.” She stared at me, her expression unreadable. “No,” she said softly. “You’re not. But I don’t think you’re a monster, either.”

But because I was too broken to care anymore. Let him have his lie. Let him have Morgan. Let him have Marcus Bennett's perfect life. I was done fighting. Done hoping. Done caring. I was just done. And tomorrow Tomorrow, I'd figure out how to survive becoming the kind of person who lets monsters win. Because I was too broken to be a hero anymore.