Haka's very bad, not good deed

Haka sobbed uncontrollably and inconsolably. Not that there was anyone to console him in that lonely dark night, as he shivered in the cold Kathmandu wind. His hands covered his face, and he sobbed and stopped, sobbed and stopped, in bursts. He couldn't squat anymore, so he just sat down on that dirty dusty street in Balaju. Someone shouted from somewhere about not letting people sleep at night. A howl-chain of angry dogs started just as he was finished.

He was dizzy, confused, and unsure where to go to. There was no one he could talk to about this, because first, no one would believe him, and if they did, the first thing they would do is to take him to the police. Even talking in code was hard. What would he even say, how could he explain to them the graveness of the situation, and the heft of the things he had done. He would have to live with his guilt for the rest of his life. Haka knew he was trapped and there was no solace from anywhere. It was to be his secret, and only his, for the rest of his life. He was forever connected to the Khyaak now, and there was no going back.

He scratched his head. It was getting colder. As guilty as he was, he couldn't spend the entire night out in the cold, among the pack of rabid dogs and drug addicts. This area was also popular with foreign tourists and street kids, Haka knew, and he didn't want to be involved in that in any way. He wiped the tears of his face with his sweater sleeves and started making way home. Home was far away, but there was a purpose. Staying here not doing anything and crying would be just attracting attention to yourself and inviting problems.

When Haka got back to his room at half past two in the morning, he was empty. Emotionally he felt there was nothing inside him anymore, all his inhibitions and moral compasses and lessons and social boundaries had been redrawn and torn apart to shreds and then destroyed by an atomic bomb. Physically, he had been running around a lot that day with not much to eat -- he had been careful to wash his hands several times after handling the sweets -- and he didn't want to eat now anyway. His stomach was empty and hollow, but he felt it was not food that he needed. He needed an emotional nourishment that he couldn't get, and he would be hungry forever.

Haka knew the coming days would be even more testing as the news of the event got out and people became curious. There would be police investigations, they would ask the street kids, the cafe owners, the homeowners there, and try to identify every soul that was present in those streets that evening to isolate him. He knew none of them would point towards him because no one had seen him. He had even mapped out the security cameras outside the gates of those large houses, and had strategically walked behind large vehicles as he passed their field of view. He wouldn't get in trouble with the police, that he was confident about. It was the fear of his guilt escalating and eating him from the inside that scared him.