For hours, everyone in the train car had to deal with this presumably crazy man that was sitting in the corner seat near the front. He sat hunched over and shivered so violently you could feel him from three rows back. Every now and then he cried out in what we think was pain. I would have asked him if he was alright--obviously he wasn't--but I, like everyone else, was afraid of what he might do.
All of the sudden, this man got up from his seat and walked into the center aisle looking back at everyone in the car. After several moments like this, he then shouted as loud as he could the two words "GET. OUT." Everyone was puzzled thinking he was talking to them, but before anyone could pipe up, this man began ripping off his clothes and plunged his hands into his chest, ripping apart skin and breaking ribs. All of us just watched in horror as he turned his body inside out. He tore away at himself until finally he collapsed, bearing a smile on his face. Never before have I seen such determination in a man's eyes.
We all sat in silence for a while afterward trying to comprehend the events that just unfolded. The shock was too overwhelming to do anything, plus there was nothing we could do at this point anyways. Thoughts were racing through my mind as I came back to reality. Who was he? Why did he do that? What was it? . . . Where did it go? And in that very instant I asked myself this question, I felt a shudder.