didn’t fully understand. I knew that Edgar was dead. Whether by human or animal or his own doing, it didn’t matter. What mattered is that he suffered, and I failed him. What mattered is that I was considered responsible for his death. What mattered is that I could not stay and fight against the IID—an opaque agency whose reach I could not even begin to imagine. I did not want to go to prison. I wanted even less to go through months or years of interrogations and trials.
