Not a bit guilty.

Maybe it was the fact that I was already late for the meeting – not that I was particularly interested in listening to Raleigh circumlocute on the virtues of his latest mountain of numbers – and headed for the inevitable lecture-into-life-story that pushed me over the edge.

Lord knows I’m not normally given to indulging impulses.

Perhaps it was the fact that Randy put relish on my burger for the third time this week. I hate relish. And Randy. And the man lying beside me on the floor of the elevator, clutching his chest and gasping.

I could get really analytical and chalk my actions up to a disinterested father, or maybe that time my cousins threw me into a river. But honestly I don’t know why I did it. I just reacted because I wanted to.

He had coughed nervously several times before putting voice to that mental trigger somewhere in my head.

“What happened?”

God forgive me.

I fell against the floor, thrashing and screaming.

“Merciful… NOO!!!! They’re coming back! They’re coming! Run!

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