You used to be a hero, but the world failed you and left you broken beyond repair

The faint ticking of the grandfather clock pounded in her ears as she watched the second hand spin in slow, methodical circles. Lazily swirling the spirits in her glass cup, she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Her lips, which used to be a sweet strawberry color, were now mauve. Those locks of once fair hair had been dyed to a rich brown.

From where she sat on the red couch, she could see the city. In the wee hours of the morning, the stupid place was still buzzing with activity. She supposed it was to be expected. During these hours, she used to watch out for the people down below her apartment. Now, she watched chaos unfold. Somewhere outside the glass walls of her cold home, her family desperately tried to hold back the dark forces threatening their home. She used to care. 

Funny how the hero's story ends tragically. Achilles was murdered with a poisoned arrow, and Jason died alone, killed by his own rotting ship. That was the fate of heroes. Give all, given none. She supposed that was the spiel; heroes are selfless and there to lay down their lives for the sake of others. But no one pays heed to the hero's own struggles. Who will be there to save the saving grace? 

She stuck her tongue in her cheek, tipping her head back and downing the alcohol in one gulp. She didn't even feel the burn of the liquor anymore. What was funny to her was the fact her brothers considered her the villain in their story. Certainly, she was content with watching her home descend into madness. Just like she did all those years ago. Tortured by the very people she was trying to protect. In a sense, the world failed her. But watching the world fall apart around her didn't make her a villain. It made her a bystander. In a way, that was her very own tragic end. All those years of work and responsibility ended up leaving her with nothing. 

Her eyes drifted back to the clock, roaming the face of the marvelous piece of furniture. It wouldn't be long until her family turned into dust and left the city unprotected. Though the thought should have disturbed her, it didn't. She lacked the empathy she once had. It had done her no good, and she found that she was better without. Maybe once the world had been wiped away, she could restart. All alone she may be, but she didn't care. She used to care.

Leaning forward, she set the glass down on the ottoman, the ice cubes clicking against the rim. She hung her head, laughing softly to herself. How stupid was she to think she could have saved the world? a complete idiot, she was, to have thought they would praise her, and honor her name with parades through town square. She curled into herself, trying to block out the memories of her final day as a hero. Locked in a cell, rats scuttling across her blackened feet. Greasy blonde hair, matted at the back, housing all kinds of bugs that didn't belong there. The time spent huddled in a corner, trying to shelter herself from the cold and the rain. The moments where all felt lost; when she felt abandoned. It was those moments that she realized the people who wanted to be saved weren't willing to save the person who kept them from harm's way. 

"Funny," she said, blinking hard. Standing up, she walked closer to the overlook. Funny how ungrateful people could be to someone even after their lives were saved dozens of times by that person. Funny how others took credit where it wasn't deserved. When it wasn't theirs to begin with. People would fight tooth and nail to steal another's honor. 

Pressing her palm against the glass, she looked down at the street below. From where she stood, she could hear the honking of angry drivers and the cursing of the drunk men stumbling down the street. She couldn't smell the sweet cigarettes or taste the bitter alcohol on the air. Nor did she care. But she used to. 

She used to be a hero, but the world failed her and left her broken beyond repair.