Father asks as I drop the used syringe into a plastic bag. “What if they just decide to lock you up for killing that boy? Will I be left here to rot?” “It's a review hearing,” I reply, feeling a flutter of fear in my chest. “Their job is to make a recommendation based on -” “So they're the ones who'll tell the cops to arrest you for murder?” I flinch as soon as I hear that word. “Or whatever they call it,” he continues. “Manslaughter? Is that how they describe gross incompetence these days? I don't suppose it matters much, the poor little boy's dead anyway. And all because you couldn't be bothered to give him the right pills.” “The review hearing will -” “They'll throw the book at you,” he sneers, “and rightly so. I hope you don't come back, I hope they take you away in chains.” He sniffs as he tries to sit up, although he quickly lets out a gasp of pain.
