Bullet Train to Murder | ONC novella ✓

22 | guilt

He put on a black outfit and observed the dark circles under his eyes. It had deepened to the extent that he wondered if his eyes were even in his sockets anymore.

The cold water from the shower earlier gave him just the refreshment he needed but somehow, regardless of how cold the water was, he couldn't seem to escape his thoughts or freeze them.

After putting on a strong cologne he walked towards the breakfast table where his chef had prepared bread and omelet. He quickly devoured his food, the warmth of its contents warming his palette but quickly fading away – just like happiness in his life.

He wanted to scream but no voice came out as if someone was choking his throat.

It might have as well happened all those years ago, why did they leave me to survive?

After quickly wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he walked out of his home feeling the residual guilt fleeting amidst the loud traffic.

A flicker of familiarity caught his eye, sending a jolt of unease through his body.

His heart raced as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing — was that really the face he thought he recognized, or was his mind playing tricks on him?

Anger, resentment, panic — all battled for dominance within his heart, devouring him like a tornado that threatened to sweep him away.

He felt this urgent need to take action, to do something, anything, to quell the storm of feelings raging inside him.

He observed him for couple of minutes more, trying to focus despite his pain and came up with a plan.

He spotted his target moving with purpose, the sunlight casting long shadows across the pavement. His heart quickened at the sight, a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he assessed the situation.

Drawing upon years of experience and careful observation, he identified the perfect moment to strike. Like a predator stalking its prey, he shadowed his target, blending seamlessly into the throng of people that filled the sidewalk.

He pulled out his syringe filled with his special chemical. It wasn't the quickest way to finish his task but it definitely was the most effective way he had discovered to leave without much trace.

The needle pierced smoothly into the victim's skin as its contents were quickly drained.

After he was sure he had injected enough, he quickly continued his brisk walking with his practiced ways. It was second nature to him now.

The man felt a sharp tinge akin to an itch which quickly transmitted throughout his system and immobilized him. His legs refused to move forward and his hand wasn't much help either. He quickly fell to the ground where death took his soul away.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of panicked shouts and frantic movements, but he remained calm, his focus unwavering.

He melted back into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of faces without a trace.

As he walked away, the sounds of chaos faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.

With a sense of purpose driving him forward, a sinister smile found its way on his lips.

"Someone call 911! I think he had a heart attack!" A person from the crowd called out.

A sense of urgency hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fear and uncertainty.

"Will get right into it!" Someone responded.

A lot of the people passed through the scene like nothing had happened, or perhaps were trying to escape the gravity of the situation or escaping their realization of how fleeting life is and they're just mere mortals.