Mistakes had been made. Mistakes born out of sheer selfishness. A nasty parasite that dulls your senses, your feelings, your thoughts, one that engulfs your heart and blackens it. And I was infected. There was no cure. I had crossed the point of no return.

It sprouted from fear. Fear that my weak heart couldn’t handle. Fear that kept me shuddering at night. Fear that brought me to my knees. Fear which slowly but surely turned me into what I am today. A monster. A god. I have massacred billions with ease. I have given birth to billions. I have ended the world. I have created the world. At least, I’m fairly sure that I have. I am yet to face the dire consequences of my selfish actions. Maybe today’s the day.

I saw a bright, yellow cab halt before me. I had just left my messy clutter of a petite apartment for my night shift at the 7-11 halfway across the city - the one place where I had managed to get myself a job and stay under the radar. The cab was sprinkled with water droplets, after all, it was still drizzling. I couldn’t see the driver, at least not good enough to make out the features of their face - the small streams of water that meandered down the heavily-tinted windshield made sure I didn’t. The bright streetlights struggled to illuminate the street.

I opened the taxi door and climbed in. I swung the door close, careful not to slam it. The radio was playing the most popular country songs in a low volume.

“Hunts Point,” I muttered loud enough for the driver to hear. In response, the car started rolling forward. The driver did not turn on the wipers. I wondered what she could see through the dense foliage of water.