I can’t breathe properly.
The plan.
Focus on the plan, I tell myself.
The plan is the only thing that matters.
It is the only thing that kept me going all those years.
Murdering Sutton.
Now murdering the woman who was part of his organization.
But whatever I try, what I feel doesn’t vanish.
I feel.
For her.
As me.
The ghost.
The killer who can’t kill.
Because of the feelings.
It is one last look, before I run.
Lilian follows me, calling something, but I can’t hear her. My hand is on the door handle as I turn, like being steered by an external force.
I see her. Those mesmerizing eyes stare at me as she closes her shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a voice that isn’t mine, and I’m outside on the doorsteps.
Air.
Breathing in air.
I stumble down the stairs.
Not knowing what to do or where to go.
“Wait!”
I hear her shout after me, but I can’t.
I can’t. I can’t give up who I am for her.
But I also can’t leave.
I am frozen to the spot on the sidewalk.
A hand grasps mine.
Her hand.
Her touch.
