You froze dead in your tracks. Before you was a boy, no older than 20, stood over a dead body. An axe laid limp in the boys hand as he twitched, silently. His gaze slowly travelled up, seeing you staring in horror at the end of the alley.

He made no effort to lunge, almost awaiting how you’d react to this situation. Would you plead? Run without looking back? Or attack? Fight and flight does make a human do irrational actions.