Enzyme
The All-Powerful Enzyme!
The first question, silenced Jackson. It seemed almost ridiculous to ask, as he assumed everyone had at least once. He then realized, despite his friends age, Conor was a true novice in the act of taking ones life. Jackson shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, if I had anything to say, it would've been back then - when I needed to tell someone." Feeling for his emotion, he found a discrepancy in his heart. It were as if the emotion for killing had been redacted. He had certainly felt something when the integrity of his morality was brought into question; when he held onto the image of humanity in its most absolute form. He would often shake from violent nightmares, unable to move from a stiff, locked position. In the corner of his room he'd see the figures he had killed, their faces stretched with horror as it was the last emotion they would muster before he took their life.
Now, killing had become little more than an after thought. Time wasn't the catalyst of his healing wound, it only served as an interval for his thoughts. It was the acceptance of his duty and purpose on this Earth that granted him peace. Running from his problem would leave him a shell, so instead he turned around and stared his trauma in the eyes. Coming to terms with his reality, the same solution for a heartbreak - for at the end of the day, that all it was. He was heartbroken over who he had been forced to become.
"I'm sure this'll seem a bit... Eh... Pretentious, but I guess it's not somethin' you can really talk about." He moved for the bottle on the table, using it as a segue for the conversation. "We grow up, we do things, and we learn from it," he said as he filled his glass. "Some better than others," he chuckled, jabbing Conor for his criminal record.
"Be honest, though." He raised his index finger around the glass to Conor. "All this," he said, motioning to the building they were in. "Is it meant to fill that Dublin-sized hole in your heart?" He raised his brow, taking a sip of the glass. He assumed the major reason Conor was struggling with his morality was because a piece of him was lost. Some people could adapt to their new climate with ease, but from what Jackson knew about his friend, Conor was not one of those people.
Misty Gray (Conor)