"You killed a man" They say over and over In his head "You killed a man." They repeat to him Until he knows they can not be wrong.
He walks the streets wondering if the eyes that glance him over while they walk on by know that on average a person walks past a murderer 36 times in their life. "You killed a man" He expects one of them to scream.
She is different He knows this from they day they first meet The voices go quiet Almost allowing him to sleep.
He takes her on dates, tells her his hopes and dreams though it is not until the night they decide to combine their resources in a cramped damp apartment with a view of the sunset against the skyline that he decides to tell her the words that once were on replay inside his mind.
"I killed a man." He whispers to her. His voice bright In direct contrast to the darkness of the night. As his hands tap the covers Twice then once then twice again.
Her eyes caress him, touching him in ways he knows can not be done with hands as he repeats "I killed a man." His eyes fixed on the ceiling, Counting the tiles To be sure that 101 has not changed to 102 and the stain in the 81'st hasn't shifted to 22'nd.
He jumps at the feeling of her touch
Voice sharp Hands soft. "Tell me." The demand so quiet he wonders if it was just the sound of settling dust.
He turns to her, Finds the question in her eyes. It's a drastic change from the haunted look he expected if only to reflect what he sees in the mirror every day.
"I killed a man." He says once again, For the millionth time in his life though only the third outside of his head.
Her fingers trace his face. Thumb running across his lips. She opens her mouth, and quietly whispers the words he never dared to even consider "The man you killed, was yourself."