I remember that moment.

Body twirling through the air, wind wisping at my bruised ligaments.

Then I was grounded; skimmed across earth like a stone against a pond.

I believe I was cognizant enough at that point to understand this was wrong.

The others were not like this. No, they were deeply flawed. I saw them; deconstructed them.

Foul, grimacing beasts of shadow, with a presence that hung in the air like rotting pine.

They fancied themselves the wolves, in this game of cattle.

And so they were animals, and I harvested them like animals.

I was obedient. Thorough. Proud.

It was my job. My purpose.

I was an animal as well.

Now I was blemished.

Now I had blood pour out of my jaw, and my attire so thoroughly ruined.

Now I had been held up by someone who had understood my schema more than even I had.

When I saw behind the glass panes to look for the pupils, and saw even less.

The glint in the mouth, and the easing of words.

The reaffirmation of my position.

I was an animal.

This was a man.

And then I was nothing.