Working on autopilot, I drop to a squat and rifle through his pockets. He’s still warm to the touch, a thought which suddenly turns my stomach. But I hold back my nausea because it’s done. I own this action because I feel no remorse.
Finding a set of keys, I stand quickly, ensuring not to slip in his blood which has stained my sneakers a bright red. Stepping over his body, I walk toward Saint, who shakes his head sadly. “You will always remember your first kill. I’m sorry.”
I don’t understand what he’s apologizing for, but a small voice inside me whispers that what I’ve done will haunt me for the rest of my life. I tell that voice to shut the f**k up.
My fingers tremble as I try to unlock his cuffs, but I take a deep breath, telling myself to focus. Just as it clicks open, I celebrate p
