Most nights, her pleading lips appear before me, whispering in the dark. She was relying on me and I'd failed her, that much was clear. I still remember the shock and the horror spreading across her face. I was barely thirteen when it happened. Being a witless pupil of teenage rebellion, the possibility of inflicting harm on another human being had never really occurred to me. Then it did. My life was never the same after the event. I've always found it kind of ironic how a split second decision could alter my entire destiny; all those years ahead of me, wrecked by a single act. The desire to hang myself used to invade my mind when I recalled what happened that day. I got away with it, but even though my body is free of the crime, my conscience is not. I'm nothing more than a blank spectre roaming the physical realm. I was strolling aimlessly, my hands tucked deep in my pockets, along the windy riverbank in Chatham. My mind was preoccupied by the promise of adventure. I should have known of the consequences the day would unravel.
