July 12, 1804. The duel between two enemies, Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr started at dawn. It went on as any other duel, yet ended terribly.

Alexander raised his weapon to the sky as he counted, while Burr shot him. He had thought Alexander would’ve done the same, being all caught in the war to be the best between the two.

The bullet lodged into the man’s ribs, the pain shot through Alexander like a shiver. The warm substance flowing out of the wound like leaves dancing along the wind. His breath had hitched as the bullet entered, the dizziness quickly setting in.

Alexander looked up towards the other man, seeing his expression through his own blurry vision. Burr was surprised at what he had done. Yet something else had caught Alexander’s eye, across the river. His friend Laurens led a soldiers chorus on the other side, Washington, his mother, Philip. Were all there.

The man was quickly rowed back across the river, his dead family and friends watched while smiling. Alexander kept his eyes locked onto each of them, it couldn’t possibly be real.

Alexander was losing blood, fast. His last moments were spent with Eliza and Angelica, he lay on his deathbed as a doctor tried their best to keep him alive for as long as possible. In the corner of his eye he saw Lauren’s again, stood off to the side just watching with a sorrowful smile.