Every night, before I sleep, I recite the names of the lost. Those who are confirmed dead, and those that just disappeared and are assumed dead.
It's morbid. But, it tends to be followed by thoughts about how the list will only grow longer with each passing year. I wonder if the list will become so long that I decide to abandon this idea? Most likely. I also dread the day when I have to add more names to it.
I was thinking of an old friend tonight. And a conversation with her. I miss her a lot. If it wouldn't put her life in danger, I'd visit. She'd probably love to have someone to dissect.
It was a crisp night and she brought out a nice, warm drink. She made good tea. I remember her looking at me for a while before asking me.
"Carter... What's it like? To kill so many people, I mean."
"It's... Terrible. It removes parts of your humanity each and every time. You'll never forget it. Every time you'r idle, your mind will play it back to you. You'll look at yourself in the mirror and see a killer. That's what drove me over the edge. That's why I'm not killing someone again."
"But you killed a lot of people before...Her. Of your own free will. Why would you choose that life? Why did you do it?"
"... Because if I didn't... If I didn't, then someone else would be in danger. I did it for you, and everyone …