Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to flee, to run, to get the hell out of there as fast as I could and never look back. I could hear the sirens outside the building now, and I knew that the police would come crashing in any second now. I was kneeling down in front of a corpse with a knife in my hand, there was no way I'd weasel my way out of this without going to jail.

I couldn't run though, I couldn't even get up. After years of having my head filled with white noise, all the turbulence in my head had finally settled down. Instead of a roaring river, my thoughts and memories were calm like the surface of a tranquil lake. Now that I was in Carl's body, I think I got my splinter back, that indescribable piece of my soul that got wedged into Carl's, and because of that I could remember every detail of everybody I had inhabited with crystal clarity, but the memories that stuck out the most were Carl's.

I had never seen memories so sad. Before I knew it I was curled up on the floor sobbing.

Carl's life was never like I imagined it to be. I thought after killing me for the first time he became popular, and lived a life any kid would dream of. The truth was much darker than that. His parents despised and feared him after what he did to me, and kicked him out the first chance they got.

After running me over with his truck he started drinking as a way to cope and got kicked off the football team. No more scholarships, no more division one football, he barely scraped by his last two years of High School with nothing to show for it. All the beer he was drinking went right to his stomach, and people started laughing at him again.

After barely finishing High School, and no colleges accepted him, Carl started doing gig work to get by. He tried working a few real jobs, but never for long. The pain he felt in his soul kept him distracted, which his employers mistook for laziness. Carl had been homeless almost the entire time, which is partially why it was so hard for the police to pin him down. He was always moving and never had a place to call his home.

Carl truly believed that the only way he could get his life back on track was to kill me. It was an addiction that he had to see through. Not because he wanted me dead, but because he didn't know any other way to get his life back. Ever since he pushed me into the television his life had invariably changed for the worst. His fondest memory was standing in his room with me, laughing about South Park, and hoping that the rest of the sleepover would be just as fun.

"Freeze, asshole, let me see those hands!"

I dropped the knife and raised up my hands. The police had arrived. Funny how they were never there when I needed them, but managed to show up promptly this time around.

"Now get on your stomach and put your hands behind your back!" There was fear in the officer's voice.

"Do you want my hands up, or do you want them behind my back?" I shouted through sobs.

"Up! No, behind your back!"

I rolled over and prayed he wouldn't shoot me. I didn't want Carl to go out like that. The officer came over, put me in cuffs, and escorted me out of the building.

At the police station I got interrogated by the police thoroughly. They said I matched the description of a man they had been seeking for a very long time, across multiple states. I didn't really know what my options were at that point, so I shut the hell up and chose not to cooperate. Unfortunately there was more than enough evidence at the scene of the crime to charge me with murder. They threw me in a cell, thinking that I would be more cooperative in the morning.

I lied on that stiff, jailhouse mattress uncertain of my future. For years now my entire life has been defined by Carl. Whether I was trying to get revenge on him, or simply running from him, or getting killed by him. Now that he was gone, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. So as I lied there, I did the only thing I could do, which was pour over our memories. I was sure there was some piece of advice waiting for me there, something that could give me a clue as to how I should move forward.

I went back to the beginning where this all started, before Carl even shoved me into the TV. Further back, up in the attic, where my Mom tried to convince me to attend a lonely twelve-year-old's birthday. I was too young to realize it, but she was just trying to get me to do the right thing. All she wanted was for me to take the first step, do one nice thing, and change the world. I think maybe she was onto something.

I wondered what my life would have been like if I hadn't been so mad. If I had just said yes, enjoyed the birthday party, and went home the next morning. I'd have grown up with my Mom, I'd have met my little brother, and maybe even Carl and I could have been friends. That one nice thing I did could have made the world a much better place. Instead, I blew it. Carl was to blame for overreacting, but I was the one who set this all in motion.

I fell asleep as my mind wandered, and when I woke up I was thrown back in an interrogation room. The Detectives in front of me wanted to know if I was ready to cooperate yet.

I thought about what Carl said to me in confessional. How when I jumped into new bodies I was killing them. What was the total number? How many souls had I kicked out so that I could keep coming back to life? Hundreds of people at least, who never got to live their lives. So many people who were happy, who had families, holidays they were looking forward to. Carl might have been the one to kill them, but I was the one who ended their lives. They were dead long before Carl showed up and finished them off.

"I'm ready to confess now, Detective," I said.

I spilled the beans. I confessed to every killing I had ever done. I left out the part about coming back to life, but I admitted to slaughtering every single body I had ever inhabited. It was the only way I could possibly even start to atone for the lives I ruined. It was the small first step on the road to making the world a better place.

My confession lasted several hours, and afterwards I was quickly charged, tried, and sentenced. The punishment was obvious.

Death. And they put me on the fast-track for execution.

As they strapped me in to prepare me for lethal injection, I thought about all the people I pushed out of their own bodies. After all this time I never learned where they went, and part of me wondered if they were still out there. Maybe Carl was out there somewhere in the dark, alone and afraid like I was when I died for the first time. Maybe he's waiting for his own light to grab onto so he can be pulled back to life. I really liked the thought of that, and kind of hoped that I could be that light.

The chemicals started pumping, and I could feel ice in my veins once more. I knew I had to die to atone for my sins, but it felt different this time. I wondered if there was a limit on the number of times you could Soul Jump. I figured either way it wouldn't matter. If I died and woke up in the Dark Place, I'd jump back into life. I'd make it my goal to find the souls of the people I displaced. I'd bring them all back to the light so they could live the lives I stole from them. I'd invite Carl over for a rematch of Super Smash Bros, and savor the look on his face when he realized I wasn't gonna take it easy on him.

Either that, or I'd die for real, and honestly that didn't sound too bad either. I had died so many times now, the thought of being at peace had a nice ring to it.

Live, die, it didn't matter. Either way, I couldn't lose.