They tell me I did the right thing.
If not for my ‘information’ thousands of people would have died in the attack. Innocent civilians who had done nothing to deserve such an end.
They shower me with rewards and hail me as a hero, but the voices I desire most have been silenced by the same people all others hail as their ‘protectors’.
Wild weeds grow where my home once stood, and only the burnt, bullet-holed walls remember the children whose feet once trampled down the grass.
Innocence is subjective.
In the end, it is our choices that haunt us.
Word Count: 100