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The engine chokes then awakens as I turn the key in the ignition. It seems like my body is floating through the city streets. I manage to get over the hill onto the country’s dark roads, away from the painfully prolonged shift of being suffocated by everyone’s commands. The speed limit is 55, but I am selfish. I want to get home. The speedometer begins to climb. 60. 70. 80. 90. A soothing noise of gliding over the roads quiets me from my urgency. Suddenly, green eyes pop out of nowhere. My body becomes paralyzed as I come closer; eyelids pinching together as a heavy thud rolls over the car’s hood and windshield. As I close my eyes, glass impales my face. Warm drops of my own blood skip down my body, mixing with the fur and blood pressing against my face and torso. That’s all I remember before seeing the darkness–to God, murder is a sin. The sensation of fire still burns me–I was a selfish sinner.


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