"Just what is a hero?" said my teacher once.

I answered, "A hero is someone who saves other people."

Suddenly, he smacked me with a book and said, "Wrong."

Everyone in the class laughed.

Another student then asked, "Then, teacher, just what is a hero?"

He smiled softly, spoke with pride, and proclaimed, "Heroes are..."

But then the bell rang, and class was already over.

He still never told me to this day. But I think I know what he was trying to say.

Years later, I stood before a reactor core. It was about to explode. With a radius over 50 miles, it was big enough to blow the entirety of New York City up.

My skin was peeling from the burns. My suit, built with heat resistance, was melting.

And most importantly, no one knew I was the one saving everyone.

There would be no applause.

No one to pull me from the fire.

No last minute miracle.

Just silence. That was when I realized what a hero was.

And that was the moment that I realized it wasn’t ever the plan for me to make it out alive.