It had been four and a half years since Curtis put down the knife, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday.
He could still hear the woman’s screams in his ears, the sight and smell of all the blood.
He tried to push back the memories keep focus on finding over means to survive, yet in his dreams would still replay that day each time he closed his eyes. Curtis guessed it was punishment.
Punishment for the others before that day, punishment from the things he did to get on the train, and punishment for leaving that boy an orphan.
Curtis laid on his bunk not wanting to sleep, not wanting to relive that day. His arm was still hurting. He lifted his sleeve and looked at the poor wrapped wound. He cursed under his breath.
He was such a fucking coward.
He listened to the couple finding warmth with each other three bunks down, the loud rattling of the shaking cart, the constraint snoring from every direction,
the crying and whimpering from others in the distance, and the faint echo of people’s stomach rumbling. Tomorrow would be the third day in the row they had no food.
People would start to get desperate.
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