(You may choose to be Burr, Alexander, or anyone.)

July 11, 1804.

The duel between Aaron burr and Alexander Hamilton, was a sweat for the both. Pointing their guns though only one got shot first, Alexander.

Since Alexander missed his shot.

Alexander froze, as he fell, shot in the abdomen area above the right hip. The breath from his lungs he held, now trying to escape.

Burr looked at him, with a stare, though widen and frozen, his gun in his hand as he gripped it firmly. Though shaken, and not as stern and cold as he was when he got ready to duel.

What has he done?

And for Alexander, it all went black. Did he die? What would Eliza think? He.. promised he would get home safe and sound. It was just.. silence, just the fade smell of the gunpowder being the only reminder. The only thing Alexander saw for the last time, was burr frozen, like he was thinking something, almost regretting it.

Alexander woke up, laying— in some room. Confusion on his face as he tried to sit up, but feeling a sharp pain which let out a groan from him, but it was bandaged. He could see Burr beside him.

”Lay down, Alexander.”*

Burr muttered out, seemingly trying to wrap Alexander’s wound. Now, why on earth would burr be helping him? But, he honestly had to be grateful to god that he even is alive.