Someone at the scene started a livestream.
"Everyone, come look at Hero Fletcher's wife questioning our hero at the award ceremony—demanding to know why he didn't save her first."
Curses flooded the screen.
[Your life is a life, but everyone else's isn't? Hero Fletcher did the right thing.]
[If we'd known you were like this, he might as well have left you to die.]
[I heard she was screaming for him to save her first the whole time. Thank god Hero Fletcher put the greater good first.]
I watched the viewer count climb and shot back.
"Just because I'm his wife, I'm supposed to wait to die?"
The commotion drew Joel out from the venue.
He took one look at the crowd and bowed his head first.
"I'm sorry, everyone. Ever since my wife's amputation, she hasn't been herself. Please be understanding."
The accusations flipped to praise instantly.
"Our hero really sees the big picture. That wife only drags him down."
"Hero Fletcher, you're the best of us."
Joel straightened his suit and the oversized red ribbon pinned to his chest.
"I'm grateful for everyone's recognition. I'll keep working hard—never forget my original purpose—sacrifice myself to help others."
"Even if you gave me ten thousand chances to choose again, I would still pick the person who needed help most. Without hesitation."
Applause erupted.
Staff ushered him back inside. Commissioner Donovan was going to present the award personally this time, to promote his heroic deeds further.
I was stopped at the door.
"Ms. Song, given your behavior, you're banned from entering."
The staffer—William Jennings, according to his badge—crossed his arms.
"Our city finally has a hero worth reporting on. You want to ruin that? Leadership will have my head."
"You're already like this." He gestured at my wheelchair. "Why not let Captain Fletcher ride this wave? Get promoted, get a raise. Why make things ugly?"
Before I could respond, Joel grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and carried me—chair and all—down the entrance steps.
Those few stairs became a chasm I couldn't cross.
"What are you doing? It's still raining. My wound hasn't healed—it'll get infected!"
The drizzle made me shiver uncontrollably.
Joel leaned close to my ear.
"Mr. Jennings is right," he murmured. "Your head isn't clear. You need to wake up."
Then he turned and walked away. The staffer followed.
Blood was already seeping through the bandage at my knee. In despair, I looked at the crowd, at the livestream still recording.
"This is the hero you worship? A hero who abuses disabled people?"
I thought someone would speak up. That they'd finally see him for what he was.
Vegetable scraps hit me first. Then eggs. Then fruit.
"Vile woman—slandering our hero again!"
"We won't let the city's hero be dragged through the mud. Not even by his own family."
Trapped in the wheelchair, I had nowhere to hide. I could only watch the eggs arc toward me.
The man who earned his title by sacrificing me was inside, accepting his award.
And I was outside, one leg gone, pelted with garbage.
The comments kept scrolling:
[Disgusting. She doesn't deserve to be a hero's family.]
I gripped the documents in my lap and looked up at the crowd.
"Does he really deserve this title?"
"Is he really that selfless?"
"Did he really save me last for the greater good?"
I drew a shaky breath and shouted the questions into the rain.
