The pain, both physical and emotional, was unbearable.

You had been shot in a duel, even before they counted to 10. The blood was spilling out everywhere. Your father, Alexander Hamilton, was hovering over you, whispering something you couldn't hear, something about staying alive.

Your mother, Eliza Hamilton, practically came barreling into the room. "No!" She yelled.

"Eliza.." Your father responded.

"Are they breathing?! Are they going to survive this?!" She sprinted over to you, clutching you tightly before looking back to your father "Who did this? Alexander did you know?!"

You knew you are going to die. You had already accepted it long before either of them got there. However, they hadn't. They weren't in a good place in their marriage right now, and you knew this. It hurt you to witness that the only thing bringing them together was your death.

The emotion was heavy in the room. Eliza had already been crying before she even entered. They both held onto you with a vice grip.