I remember, though. I was meant to be a gentle kind of cold. Mercilessly empty of everything but detached benevolence.

I was there, I was bloodless. I remember. I was burning razor wire in a brilliant vacuum, too beautiful to hurt. I’d never hurt you.

I’d never stop you hurting yourself. Even in my fledgling days I spoke it plainly. I watched you all drown on dry land never believing emptiness could be so heavy.

They had to die because I killed them. Everyone I was that wasn’t true.