MHA| The Misinterpreted Hero

Have you ever felt it? Wanting to live a life full of lavish and expensive experiences but not wanting to climb the summit to reach there. Wanting to become a scholar for the sciences but not wanting to read your chemistry textbooks. Wanting to become a boss at some large firm but being unable to put your foot through the door. I'm sure everyone has experienced something similar, at least in the sense of dread. As I too have experienced this feeling, sometimes in small amounts like being late for that one job interview because I slept in too late from being up all night studying the day before. Or another time when I got a flat tire from driving over a nail and was forty minutes away from home.

But none of those experiences could've prepared me for the feeling of dread I had when I awoke to my house on fire. Of course, the timing couldn't have been worse as I was graduating only a month later. In that moment not only was I tired as I've been staying up relatively late the past few weeks, but my lungs felt filled to the brim with cotton-like material making it terribly difficult to accomplish something as simple as breathing. Now I know that 'cotton-like material' was smoke corrupting and demolishing my lungs but, it felt a lot like more of a hard substance at that moment, compared to gas.

At this moment I was only focusing on myself as my self-preservation helped boost my body's need to flee the house. That only lasted till I heard it- "AAAAAHHH", the scream of my mother who also awoke to the house on fire. Now not only was I feeling my need to flee to the house, but I felt it battle with my need to save my mom. Of course in stories, typically ones where this situation is represented and the main character becomes the hero who saves his parent(s) and only comes out with light scratches, this isn't one of them. I am not some hero in a fantasy where I'm the chosen one, but I could never live another day without at least trying to save my mom, someone who always put their needs below my own.

So I sprint into her room ignoring the burning sensation of the flesh on my calf being eaten away and bust through her door. "MOM!" At this moment, most of the roof is about to collapse and she's escaping through the window, or at least trying to as the window is only half open and she's unfortunately stuck. So, fearing the roof with collapse and kill us both I do something I've seen in movies of heroes, a moment of self-sacrifice. I sprint over to her and help her through the window by opening it some more and push her outside. Fortunately, we are only in a one-story home so I don't have to worry too much about hurting her with the fall. But the unfortunate part about this moment is the opening of the window triggered a cataclysm which helped the already falling roof, completely cave in. The last thing I heard was the safe landing of my mom's life. And the last thing I felt was the dread of the unknown.

(Tell me if this is an okay start, and what I should do about the structuring of the paragraphs. Also, should I make the chapters longer than this? Please let me know and thanks for reading!)