I could feel the empty stares of the people around me. I knew they weren’t even aware that they were staring at me. But it still made me nervous. Could anyone tell? I thought it was impossible for anybody to tell, but it’s always easier to imagine a situation than to live it.
I could feel my wet clothes getting colder. It was a cold night after all, it felt even colder than usual. It made me feel even more self conscious. Could anybody see the stains? Could anybody tell where I come from?
I couldn’t stop crying. Crying in public transportation. It’s not exactly new. But still, the mask helped hide the face behind. The face of regret. A face afraid of what’s next. Could they see the fear in my eyes? Could they feel the death around me?
Could they tell? How could they? Would they figure out I came from killing a man? How? They can’t. It can’t be. Did I get away with it? Could I ever? Will I spend the rest of my days the stench of death by my side?
Is it easier to kill flesh than it is to kill a soul? It can’t be, can it?
Back to myself 