Since he first saw a man fall in front of a train that morning as a young boy, there's been a lot of water in the Hudson River.
She was an ordinary girl with a blue scarf around her neck.
The girl who picks out fish at the aquarium shop, or drinks chocolate at the coffee shop, or reads Robinson Crusoe at the antique store... The train was approaching and she was standing at the edge of the platform.
A boy called out to her and she turned so awkwardly and uncomprehendingly that she staggered and...
She'll never forget that scream.
People were calling for help. There was chaos everywhere.
"Liam!" Dad yelled at him. He came back with a newspaper in his hand. "Liam come here! Don't look over there!" (Her torn body lay in the tracks, blood everywhere).
He sits in his chair, tunnel in front of him, wondering how many souls have ended up under his wheels. How many times has he seen the same bloody image as that time.
Dozens. Dozens of voices that have breathed their last. "Murderer!..." It sounded in his head. "One more soul and we're coming for you!"
... And at 23rd Street, the platform was crowded.
Next station, 23rd Street
It was two minutes past midnight when Liam, locked in the safety of the mobile bunker, emerged from the illuminated underground station, disappearing into the darkness, feeling a pleasant warmth in his back. At regular intervals, he passed blue lights on the right side of the tunnel, and the tracks ahead of him were barely visible. His seat was soft, with a photograph of Carrie leaning against the console, and the high pitched sound frequencies drowned out any negative thoughts.