He stands there debating weather to do it or not.
Going back and forth for hours
Finally coming to a conclusion
Gripping the small knife firmly
He's hurt
Killed
And scared.
He finds himself coming to questions
Weather or not there's an escape other than death
If he lives only more people will suffer
If he dies people will be saved
Feeling no other way he raises the knife slowly
It nears the side of his neck.
Pulling swiftly with pressure
The blood flows wildly.
I the villain smiles vindictively
Seeing another hero fall like a chicken plucking its self, dead.