“You killed him,” he says. I can barely hear him over the roar of the engine, and I wonder if I just imagined it, or if it was my conscience speaking. But Ben turns to me and repeats it: “You killed that man,” he says louder, as if amazed such a thing could happen. I’m not sure how to respond. “Yes I did,” I say finally, annoyed. I don’t need him reminding me of it. “Do you have a problem with that?”
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