You’re standing there and your hands are bloody. You hands are almost always body now. It very rarely is your own blood. You feel the sweat dripping from your forehead. It’s awfully hot and so humid. It makes you want to die… But you can’t die. Not now. Now after three people died the day before. You can feel the blood on your hands even though you have not killed anyone. You can feel it like you can feel the wind. It’s a phantom on your hands. It’s payback for the things you’ve done before. It’s revenge for the lives you took. The lives you refused to take. There was a time when you did not kill at all. The time after you killed three times as much as the first. Thinking about it made you sick. You just wanted to love. You still stood at the edge of your little island like a guard dog. You still threatened to fight. Cause fight is all you would ever do… maybe it was all you could ever do. No one was going to stop you. Or would they?