As Billy Santar, I had long abandoned any sense of guilt or remorse. Leaving a man to die and consuming his food by my fire in an abandoned building was just another instance of my cold, ruthless survival instincts at work. The world I lived in was unforgiving, and I had learned to prioritize myself above all else.

Using the gas mask filter that once belonged to the man I left to die was a stark symbol of my detachment from empathy. I didn't even feel a twinge of remorse, as I hadn't experience