I prayed this was one of my smaller mistakes.

I never claimed to be a perfect Catholic. I’m hardly good enough. I was always striving, though. Even now as I hold this gun in my hand, my other hand reaches up to touch the scars on my skin.

Angelic. Maybe I believed He could love me more if I cut His symbols into my skin.

I draw in a breath and open my eyes. The room has changed. I hide the gun behind my back as I face a young boy with red hair and different colored eyes.

“What are you doing?” Jason asks. And behind the wall behind me I can hear… my friends. Their fists pounding on the door as the beg me not to do this.

I reach up and wipe my eyes as I ignore their pleas. They don’t understand.

They could never understand. I thought I’d have a place with mutants. With the XMEN. Maybe I did. But it’s all over now.

I step toward the little boy and kneel down infront of him.

I search my heart for a sign from Him. But I feel nothing but sorrow.

I have no future. I would have died sooner or later. I’d rather die a hero then alone.

I wrap my arms around Jason and bring him into my chest as I press the barrel of the gun into his back.

The bullet blasts through his little chest, and then through mine.