he met a boy the night he nearly killed someone. it was the first time he'd almost killed a man and it rattled him to the core. all it had taken was a fateful blow to the nose that rendered the man unconscious and barely breathing.
"i almost killed him," he whispered to the stranger. he'd fallen down outside the rink by the doors and the boy stopped with him. he was worried about the bloody-knuckled boy with funny hair.
"you fought," he replied. he hated fighting, but he hated seeing people in unnecessary pain more.
the fighter held his head in his hands as he repeated: "i almost killed him. i almost killed him."
the stranger boy just sat beside him and let him panic. he deserved to feel bad. this was a bad job.