I didn't mean to do it. I really didn't. It just sort of happened. It all started out as just a game, but I guess we went too far.

Bryon and I were just playing tag with a few other guys in the broken down lot on the corner. It started getting dark and all the other kids drifted home. We decided to stay just a few minutes longer, since the sun was still giving off a little light. But when the last bit of sun went down, I told Bryon we should start heading home. Then Bryon said something that really got to me.

"Chris, you're always such a baby. You're scared to go home a little late and have your mom yell at you. I don't know why you're still my friend!"

His cold, hard voice dug into my heart like a bullet tearing through a target. I felt a surge of anger spring into my stomach and spread throughout my body. Bryon's expression told me he hadn't meant to say what he did, but I didn't care. Everything happened so fast, I don't even remember how it happened. All of a sudden, Bryon was lying with his back on the ground. He eyes were shut and blood was pouring out of a huge gash in his arm.

"Bryon!" I yelled into his ear, hoping he would wake up. I shook him hurriedly and waited again for him to wake up. But he didn't. I was scared. Really scared. Bryon had been my good friend ever since kindergarten. I couldn't lose him now.

Out of the darkness a blue Caravan pulled up just a few feet beside me.

"Thank God," I cried as I ran towards my mother. When she got out of the car, her eyes went straight to Bryon, still lying on the ground.

She screamed. Loud.

Within minutes we were at the hospital. Two strong men picked Bryon up and placed him on the stretcher. I could feel hot tears pouring down my face and I suddenly felt ashamed. I fearfully stayed in the waiting room while my mom called Bryon's parents. She was gone a long time, long enough for me to get a chance to think about what had happened. I still couldn't remember. I thought of a lot of things. I thought how it was strange that my mom hadn't asked me any questions about what had happened. Maybe she was scared. I guess so. Mostly I thought about Bryon. Thousands of questions ran through my mind. What had happened? Would he be O.K.? What if he...What had I done?!

I sat on that hard hospital chair and stared at a picture, a picture that was not on the wall, but in my mind. I stared at Bryon's soft, brown hair and at his deep set, brown eyes. He had a smaller build than I did, but not too small. He didn't care about his height though, nor did he ever worry about anything. He always wore a bright smile. I sat there for hours, thinking and waiting. Waiting for answers.n