47 The Bloodied Scarf
The air covers me like a hot flannel. My skin feels numb so I can’t feel the sweat dribbling down my face. I only feel it when it gathers above my eyebrows and I have to wipe it away with my sleeve.
I guess I knew I would end up here at some point. After all the confrontations with my past lately, it seems apt and only fitting that I face up to the location of my crime. Yet, it doesn’t stop me shivering in the muggy cavern.
After sitting outside the Mansen house yesterday, I realised that I had to come back. This station, the trains, the smells, those oversized posters and the silence of death – they have all been haunting me since that day. I can’t run forever.
The scarf trails behind me, darkened with my brother’s blood. I slowly approach the place where I stoo
