Unless, of course, one counted a lifetime of treachery. But he’d always had good cause for doing the things he did. He was sure of it. Evading imprisonment-well, who sought the loss of freedom? No one but an idiot, and Sheb was no idiot. Escaping responsibility? Of course. Bullies earn little sympathy, while the victims are coddled and cooed over at every turn. Better to be the victim than the bully, provided the mess is over with, all threat of danger past and it’s time for explanations, tales of self-defence and excuses and the truth of it was, none of it mattered and if you could convince yourself with your excuses, all the better. Easy sleeping at night, easier still standing tall atop heaps of righteous indignation. No one is more pious than the guilty. And I should know.
And no one is a better liar than the culpable. So he’d done nothing to deserve any of this. He’d only ever done what he needed to do to get by, to slip round and slide through. To go on living, feeding all his habits, all his wants and needs. The killer had no reason!
Gasping, he ran down corridor after corridor, through strange rooms, on to spiralling ascents and descents. He told himself that he was so lost no one would ever find him.
Lost in my maze of excuses-stop! I didn’t think that. I never said that. Has he found me? Has the bastard found me?
He’d somehow misplaced his weapons, every one of them-how did that happen? Whimpering, Sheb rushed onward-ahead was a bridge of some sort, crossing a cavernous expanse that seemed to be filling with clouds.
All my life, I tried to keep my head down. I never wanted to be noticed. Just grab what I can and get out, get free, until the next thing I need comes up. It was simple. It made sense. No one should kill me for that.
He had no idea how thinking could be so exhausting. Staggering on to the bridge, iron grating under his boots-what was wrong with damned wood? Coughing in the foul vapours of the clouds, eyes stinging, nose burning, he stumbled to a halt.
He’d gone far enough. Everything he did, he’d done for a reason. As simple as that.
But so many were hurt, Sheb.
‘Not my fault they couldn’t get out of the way. If they’d any brains they’d have seen me coming.’
The way you lived forced others into lives of misery, Sheb.
‘I can’t help it if they couldn’t do no better!’
They couldn’t. They weren’t even people.
‘What?’ He looked up, into the killer’s eyes. ‘No, it’s not fair.’
‘That’s right, Sheb. It isn’t, and it never was.’