The blood was running down Jason Pacer’s throat and his heavy breathing was all he could feel having just killed a man with nothing more than his sharp teeth. Standing besides the lifeless body of a New York City freshmen patrol officer in this unfamiliar alley while the sun was kissing the cold skyscrapers of the city, he stood there in silence.

A loud beeping noise pierced through his ears and he became aware that he was standing naked and covered in blood in this dark alley but he couldn’t process what had just happened. His wife and 3 kids raced immediately in his mind as he started walking backwards from the body.

I can’t believe I’ve done this. This isn’t me. How did I get here?

Who is this man?

Why am I covered in blood?

A flood of questions entered his mind as time passed and he started coming back to his senses. That’s when the taste and smell of blood got his attention.

He tried to cover his mouth but couldn’t stop it from vomiting a few feet away from the body.

The city was starting to wake up and Jason had little time before someone noticed the whole situation.

He quickly looked around for anything he could use to cover himself and wipe the blood and vomit from his face. A dumpster overflowing with what looked like medical disposal was further into the alley.

Next to that a trolley filled with bags and possessions of a most probably a homeless person. Jason started going through the bags and found a pair of trousers, shoes and a long overcoat.

He wiped most of the blood and vomit with one of the t-shirts in the trolley and tossed it into the dumpster.

He started walking towards the street in a hurry as if he was late for something. Nothing made sense.

What should I do, what should I do, God. This is crazy.

Why can’t I remember anything from last night. I was.... I was at the office...and I was gonna have dinner with my family and then everything is blank.

A short police siren interrupted his train of thought.

“Walk on the pavement Mr. Wall Street”, the officer yelled driving by on his way to car crash.

The long overcoat gave the impression of a broker while the darkness hid the untidy and unsettling nature of the man wearing it.

Jason looked around for street signs to get a sense of how far from home he was.

The time read 5:13 on a 7/11 store across the street. He was standing on the corner of 54th and Broadway.

“Ok, ok. I know where I am now”.

He was at least 6 blocks from home. He had no money no keys, no phone. The only option given the circumstances was to walk.

His athletic build and his daily running routine came in handy at this point. In increasing pace he walked determined to get home and speak to his wife and figure out what had happened tonight.

He kept walking briskly while the burned in images of the body came and went before his eyes.

Trying to keep it together, Jason kept mumbling.

I’m almost home.

I’m almost home.

A few steps from his doorstep, Jason stopped to catch his breath, observing lights were on in the flat.

He took a long breath and ringed the buzzer.