You're tired, yet you refuse to stop. The path refuses to end. You are tainted, evil, gone cold with your sins. You keep your eyes to the ground, not daring to make eye contact lest the snapping need for blood consumes you again. Your hands shake, you refuse to walk confidently. The eyes and judgement of all the world is squarely on you, and you can only hope it's merciful.

You have killed 1 'person'. You can already see yourself getting put down for good, writhing and foaming at the mouth. It haunts you.

Something is terribly wrong.