Left Brain (Logic):
He planned it perfectly no prints, no witnesses, no slip-ups. Efficient. Clean. Necessary.
“She was a threat,” I whisper, my thoughts orderly, aligned like puzzle pieces. “She had proof. You saw the emails. She would've ruined us.”
I replay the route. Three minutes in. Two minutes out. Every second calculated.

Right Brain (Emotion):
But I can still hear her scream. The way her eyes widened it wasn’t justice. It was fear. Pain.
“We didn’t have to,” I argue. My thoughts bleed color and memory. “She was his friend. She trusted him.”
Guilt surges, abstract but real. A dull ache behind the eyes.
“She had a cat,” I murmur. “We left the cat.”

Left Brain:
“She was leverage,” I snap. “Collateral. The goal is survival. Our host is free now. No more watching over his shoulder.”
I ignore the shaking hands. The nausea. Weak signals. I tighten the reins.

Right Brain:
Free? He hasn’t slept since.
I see the shadows he flinches at. The ghosts we created.
“You built the plan,” I whisper. “But I saw her die.”

Left Brain:
“We did what we had to.”

Right Brain:
“No... we did what you wanted.”

And somewhere in the middle, their host begins to cry.