atonement
It was in his clear moments he was troubled. It wasn't the wound, though it hurt at every step... It was his mind. Periodically, something slipped. Some everyday principle of continuity, the humdrum element that told him where he was in his own story, faded from his use, abandoning him to a waking dream in which there were thoughts, but no sense of who was having them. No responsibility, no memory of the hours before, no idea what he was about, where he was going, what his plan was. And no curiosity about these matters. He would then find himself in a grip of illogical certainties.