Killing someone is different in practice than it is in theory. There are factors you can’t prepare for, feelings in the moment where you’ll question everything you thought you knew about yourself, other feelings that might follow you long after the deed is done.

My name is Winter Kim. Today I killed a man. Soon I hope to kill another.

It’s no small thing—ending someone else’s life. There should be some sort of gravity to that, shouldn’t there? My insides are heavy, but it has nothing to do with what I did. It is only about what I have lost.

There is something intoxicating about ending a life, about wiping bad people off the face of the earth. But it’s also a dark and deadly pull. After all, who am I to decide who lives or dies?