When someone dies, they take with them the stretched miles of hell they endured alive, every sin they committed, and any ill intention ever conceived. It almost sounds good like that, doesn't it? Like death is the great justification for everything? But then there's the loss that takes the place of all those things. And perhaps that's worse...for the deceased never return. They never feel the breath of life, and any that should miss the dead will never a reunion in life.

It's not just their life that leaves the dead, however. It's not just the simple stop of a heartbeat. Nor is it that one last breath of air. It everything they stood for. Everything they believed in. Every dream they ever had, every sunrise and sunset they ever saw, their first kiss; all of it is gone in that moment that life exits their body. Supposedly they live on in the hearts and minds of others, but that's only a distant side story of what once was whole.

To kill someone is to take away all those things from them. To erase all their burdens, and to rip from them anything and everything they ever loved. It's to take away all laughter, all smiles, all joy in every sense of the word. To leave them an empty corpse that once housed a multitude of downfalls, virtues, and hope. Nothing can ever justify that, can it?

Should anyone have to sacrifice their innocence to halt corruption? For corruption is one of those things than can be stopped only by a virtuous counterpart of itself. And that counterpart has no shelter for innocence.

I am innocent. It is not something that every beats a drum about at the apex of a mountain. In fact, few people have pride in their innocence. But almost all seem to cherish it. I cherish my innocence. I pride myself on it. I've never killed a man. I've never sentenced a man to his death. I've always tried to help whenever possible, and I refuse to do anything less. Yet, I abhor corruption. I hate the essence of killing with such a passion, that anyone who dares to embrace it would infuriate me to a rage where upon I would kill them in order to save the lives of better mortals. And that makes me no better than any other murderer.

There are a few things I want to do with my life. Ever since I was a young boy I wanted to do big, great things. Almost all of them seem impossible for one reason or another. And, of course, all of them conflict somehow with one moral or another that I hold too high to bend. One of these things is me becoming what I most desperately don't want to be... A killer.

I don't want to kill anyone. I would rather die than kill another. But when there are those in this world so willing to end this great gift of life for others that appreciate the gift...I question myself. I question what right do they have? And I always come up with the answer that no one ever has the right to kill another person. But they do. And their punishment is by far not severe enough. Death is the only thing that can equal the loss of a life.

So what do I do? Do I vow to never kill? Or do become a fiend with vengeful justice raping the innocence I cherish? These years will give me time and guidance. I'll know before it's too late.

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