Guilt. It had been eating into me over these past three months.

It’s like a blanket of darkness taking

over my mind, cancelling out all the positivity in me as an oh-so familiar memory came back again to
flood my mind. I could still envision it -- the tension rising, the resonating silence and his cold but
soulless eyes glaring at me, shrivelling my poor soul.

The inky metal gate around his house seemed to devour me as I worriedly stood still for him to invite
me in, my hands pale from squeezing the item in my hand for too long and trembling furiously. The
door groaned as the wooden frame swung open and a tall boy the height of me peered out. His
stony face gave away little emotion besides the slight scrunch in his eyebrow from disgust as his eyes
lay upon me.

“What do you want?” his sharp words pierced the atmosphere.

“I... I’m here to give you something... and...and I want to talk to you.”

We walked for eternity down his house corridor until we reached one of his rooms that is lined with
two couches and a table. Unusually cold, the air seemed to pierce through my sweater and into my
skin. The boy who seemed like a stranger to me sat down and I followed suit. His tired dark eyes met
mine – his glare seemed to trigger all my memories again; good or bad, it stabbed me in my chest.

“Go on,” he spoke softly. My throat was dryer than the sand on a Floridian beach. I managed a
gulped. I tried to speak...

“I am sorry. Nothing more can explain my