He'd done it. He'd accidentally hurt an innocent woman. The blond hung his head down, bottom half still sprawled all over the street. It wasn't like it was the first time Shizuo had hurt someone, especially when his job demanded him to scare those deadbeats into paying up their debts— though he never stuck around to see if they managed to even survive after he threw them into the air, soon to land wherever at a great velocity. They deserved it after all.

The woman, however, was nothing but sweet towards him, he noted as he let his saddened gaze trail over her crouching body. People had flocked around her to tend to her injuries and they didn't dare going near Shizuo. They would rather not get involved, too familiar of how bad his temper was. But what they didn't know was that he actually hated hurting people.

I hate violence.

I despise it.

"I'm sorry," He called out to her, "I didn't mean to hit you."

A frail smile spread across her face, and she looked so sincere. Shizuo wondered how that could be when he'd hit her with a guard rail after his hand slipped a bit. It seemed like doing an act of kindness wasn't working out well for him, seeing as all he wanted was to help her cross the road. And a bunch of rowdy boys just had to make him mad, by spouting off what dirty acts they were going to do to a poor girl.

"It's okay, young man." She nodded and soon turned to reassure a boy who was asking if she was fine. It didn't feel okay, at all. The first time he had hurt someone –who wasn't guilty of anything, of course- was when he was around that boy's age. Trying to act like a hero by saving the bakery lady, but ended up giving her more trouble. He'd not only destroyed her shop, but also hurt her in the process.

Just like this time.

"And other times…" mumbled him, to himself.

Each time something like this happened, the bad feeling inside him just stacked up, until now he just felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He was so tired of this gift that he didn't even ask for.

This curse.

Shizuo gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the ground, no longer having the courage to look at the scene before him. Trembling curled fists dug into the road underneath, making the rough surface leave cuts on his skin. Not like he could feel it, unlike the deep sorrow inside of him. That, he could feel. It's clawing its way around his heart, and engulfing him.

The debt collector didn't know how long he'd spent just sitting there in despair, perhaps a few hours, because when his mind gained a bit of clarity, he noticed that the woman was gone. And it was drizzling.