Something stirred within me, sharp and uncomfortable, as my thoughts turned inward. A familiar pattern began to surface—how easily responsibility seemed to follow after the fact, as though compensation could undo what had already been taken. The more I reflected, the more the memory from that night returned with unsettling clarity.
I remembered crouching near the edge of the space, my body weakened, my instincts overwhelmed by pain and shock. In that moment, the man had reached for his watch, as if to leave something behind, as if that could balance what had already occurred. Rage had surged through me, but it had been drowned beneath the weight of everything else I was feeling. I had struck his hand away without hesitation and forced myself to escape, because staying would have meant losing more than I already had.
