Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
I have damned my soul and I have no one to blame but myself.
I never thought it would come to this, I thought I could “fix” the problem by myself without anyone knowing, without anyone getting hurt. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
When you’re defending yourself and the person attacking dies as a result of something that happened you feel sad that you had to kill them. Sad, but glad that you aren’t the one dead. But what happens when there is a choice, granted a choice that rips at your heart, but a choice nonetheless. A choice to kill or not kill. What happens when you choose to kill? What happens to your soul? Are you the same person you were just prior to the killing?
My answer to that is no, you’re not the same person. When you killed that stranger, that friend, that lover, and did it with intent, you killed more than just them, you killed yourself.
So here I am, a man with three murders on his hands, two very dear friends and himself. A murderer. And yet, I am hailed as a hero. I saved thousands, they tell me, literally thousands, if not tens of thousands.
But what price is my soul?
Post a link to the story in the comments.