People are dying. Not deserving people. Not terrible people. Decent people. Relatively innocent people. They are dying, because I am always one step behind.
These are still my sins. These are still my crimes… carried out precisely, in the order in which I carried them out. But I remember what comes next only after it has already occurred.
My memory isn’t exactly lacking in aptitude, but it was so long ago, how can I be expected to remember?
But that’s what it is, isn’t it? This is why I’ve been assigned this mission. I’m meant to remember. I’m meant to relive. I’m meant to experience, once more, every single horrific thing I have done.
Am I being punished or saved? It’s hard to tell. I suspect that it is one by means of the other.