You look tired, Elias.

I am not tired. I am clean.

That is not an answer. You have the look of a man who has been running for a long time and finally stopped to catch his breath. But you are still running. I can see it in your hands. They shake.

My hands do not shake.

They do.

I looked at him. He sat across from me in the small, windowless room. The air was thick. It smelled of stale coffee and old paper. The walls were gray. The light was gray. My hands were on the table. They were still. I was sure of it.

Who are you? I asked.

I am the one who knows.

I do not need to know. I know what I did.

Do you?

I killed a man.

Yes.

I killed him because he was going to kill a child.

Yes.

I am not asking for forgiveness.

I am not offering it.

I am here to pay.

Payment is not money, Elias.

Then what is it?

It is time.

I laughed. It was a dry sound. Like a bone breaking.

Time is not a currency.

It is the only one that matters.

I pushed my chair back. The legs scraped against the concrete floor. The sound was sharp. It cut through the silence.

I will not stay here.

You will stay.

Why?

Because you are afraid.

I am not afraid.

You are. You are afraid that if you leave, you will have to live with it. You are afraid that the silence outside is louder than the silence here.

I stood up.

Sit down.

I did not sit down.

I looked at the door. It was solid. It was black. It had no handle on this side. I pushed against it. It did not move.

This is a prison, I said.

It is a mirror.

I turned back to him. His face was calm. He was young. He could not have been more than twenty. He had no weapon. He had no guard. He had no authority. And yet, I felt small.

What do you want from me? I asked.

I want you to remember.

I remember everything.

Do you?

I remember the blood. I remember the weight of the gun. I remember the look in his eyes.

No.

What do you mean, no?

You remember the event. You do not remember the cause.

The cause was clear.

Was it?

He was a monster.

He was a man.

He was a threat.

He was a part of the cycle.

I felt a headache start in my temples. The room seemed to tilt slightly.

I do not speak in riddles, I said.

I do not.

Then speak plainly.

Plainly, you are here because you think you are the hero. You think you saved the child. You think you ended the violence.

I did end it.

You started it.

I stared at him. The word hung in the air. It was heavy. It was cold.

That is a lie.

Is it?

I pulled out my phone. I tried to make a call. No signal. I tried to open the browser. No internet. The device was a brick.

This is a trick, I said.

It is a truth.

I walked to the wall. I tapped it. It was solid. I looked at the floor. There were no seams. No wires. No traps. Just concrete. And me.

Who are you? I asked again. My voice was lower now.

I am the consequence.

Consequences do not have faces.

This one does.

I looked at his eyes. They were dark. They were deep. I saw something in them. It was not malice. It was recognition. It was the same look I had seen in the man I killed. It was the look of a man who had been waiting for someone to stop him.

You knew him, I said.

I knew you.

Before you killed him?

Before you were born.

I felt a laugh rise in my throat. I choked it down.

This is insane.

It is inevitable.

I sat back down. My legs felt weak. The table was cold. I put my hands on it. They were trembling. I could not stop it.

The child, I said.

What about the child?

Where is he?

He is safe.

For now.

For always.

I looked at my hands. The skin was pale. The veins were blue. They looked foreign. They did not look like mine.

I made a choice, I said.

You made a mistake.

It was the right choice.

It was the same choice your father made.

I felt a shock. My father was a teacher. He was a good man. He died of a heart attack.

Your father was a soldier, I said.

My father was a teacher.

Your father was a soldier.

My father died in a bed.

Your father died in a field.

I remembered my father. I remembered his hands. They were gentle. They held books. They held my face. They did not hold a gun.

You are lying, I said.

I am telling you the truth.

My father was kind.

Your father was afraid.

I stood up again. I walked to the door. I pushed it harder. It did not move. I hit it. It did not move.

Let me out, I said.

You cannot leave.

Why not?

Because you are part of the loop.

The loop?

The cycle.

I turned around. He was still sitting there. He was smiling. It was a small smile. It was sad.

I am not a machine, I said.

You are a pattern.

I am a man.

You are a repetition.

I felt the anger rise. It was hot. It was bright. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to break his face. I wanted to kill him.

I raised my hand.

I lowered it.

I could not.

Why? he asked.

Because I am not him.

You are him.

I am better than him.

Are you?

I looked at the walls. The gray was endless. The silence was heavy. I realized I was not alone. I was never alone. I was with them. I was with the dead. I was with the child. I was with my father.

I sat down.

The chair was hard.

I looked at him.

Who is the child? I asked.

You are.

I stared at him. The room seemed to shrink. The air became thin.

I am not a child, I said.

You are the future.

I am the past.

You are both.

I closed my eyes. I saw the field. I saw the mud. I saw the gun. I saw the blood. I saw my father’s face. It was not a teacher’s face. It was a soldier’s face. It was tired. It was afraid.

I opened my eyes.

He was gone.

The chair across from me was empty.

The room was empty.

The door was open.

I stood up. I walked to the door. The air outside was cold. It was crisp. It smelled of rain.

I stepped out.

I was in a field.

It was gray. It was wet. The grass was tall. It swayed in the wind.

I looked down.

I was holding a gun.

I looked up.

A man was standing in front of me.

He was young.

He was afraid.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

I raised my hand.

I lowered it.

I could not.

I was not him.

I was him.

I was the cycle.

I was the loop.

I was the pain.

I was the love.

I was the cause.

I was the effect.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was here.

I was always here.

I was never away.

I was the silence.

I was the scream.

I was the breath.

I was the stop.

I was the start.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was here.