Gemotions

The echo of the gunshot still rang in Elias’s ears. He sat on the cold, hard ground, the metallic tang of blood filling his nostrils, the taste of ash in his mouth. The world had turned gray. He thought he deserved it.

A young woman with a long scar on her cheek approached him. Her face was a mask of shock and sorrow, her eyes wide. He knew what she was thinking. The shared medical condition.

"Elias," she whispered, her voice trembling. He felt nothing, not pain, nor the deep, hollow void that filled his chest. The action he'd taken had put them both here.

He could only stare at the blood staining the ground, the consequences of his actions laid bare. The woman fell to her knees, but he offered no comfort, no words, only the crushing weight of his transgression. He was a shell.