He wasn't afraid to take a bullet, he'd done so before, had a scar in his shoulder to show for it, and another in his right thigh. Hell, he had a number of scars to show for his so called recklessness, and maybe he was reckless. Maybe he put himself in harms way more often then he should, then again him being the target meant someone else wasn't. He didn't fear pain, hell, at times he fucking welcomed it. He didn't fear danger, he didn't even fear death, he didn't particularly want to die but he knew death was coming for him sometime and if it happened to come about sooner because of his own stupid behaviour then he supposed that's just what life had in store for him.

He didn't even fear having no one in his life, being alone. Didn't fear rejection, because he had a habit of pushing people away before they could push him away. He didn't even have to try it was like it was wired into is very being, he was an ass and people tended not to like assholes. And those who did were fucking idiots. He rarely managed to keep a work partner for more than a couple months, he didn't need one anyway they usually just slowed him down. He'd never even dated, never saw the appeal in a full blown relationship. A quick fuck now and then was all he needed.

No, Gavin Reed didn't fear any of those things. There was only one thing that truly terrified him and he had to live with it every day of his life. It was there the moment he opened his eyes in the morning and when he closed them again at night. It would remain with him till the day he died and unless there was nothing afterwards it would follow him to the afterlife. It was the one thing he could never escape and maybe that's what scared him the most. Because you could take out or disarm an armed criminal, you could stitch wounds, you could live life without personal attachments but you can't escape yourself.

You can change your name, change your address, you can even plaster on a false smile and create a new personality. But it doesn't change the fact that underneath the illusion the real you still remains, lurking in the shadows waiting for the opportune moment to shatter the illusion you've worked so hard to build. So why fucking build one, why fucking bother. You can drown yourself in bottle after bottle, try to loose yourself in pills and powder, cut yourself till you're numb but your always still there.

You can cover every mirror, every reflective surface in your goddamn house, but guess what you're still fucking there it doesn't matter what you do you'll always still be there. Because no matter what you do, no matter how fucking hard you try, you just can't make yourself go away.