“My name is Rory Carter and I do bad things.” The wind snatches the words from my lips, carrying them away from the cliff edge and over the choppy sea. I like to do that sometimes. Say it aloud when I’m alone just to see how the truth tastes. I’m not a criminal. I just do bad things. Morally questionable things. Spiteful, revengeful things. I didn’t used to be like this, but now there’s a stain on my soul so dark and stubborn that there’s nothing I can do to scrub it away. So, I don’t bother trying anymore. Instead, I confess.
