Guilt is a powerful thing. Don’t let it control you. Prevent guilt;
I turn to the name being shouted. “DAMIEN!” I turn my head towards him, bUTdidn’t respond to the name. It was as if he were ignoring the girl who called out to him. I wonder why he ignores his friend. Then just as I was about to turn my head his binders hit the floor with a loud noise. Loud enough to startle anyone in the hallway. Now he had our attention. People stared, and then laughed and yelled at him. Called him things no kid should be called. Such as “f*****, h***, gay,” but most of all “freak.” I wanted to stand up for this kid. But I stayed in my place. I studied him. His eyes looked vacant. Blank, towards the hostileness towards him. Then, like a kid in an insane inslium he raises his hands to cover his ears and lets out a scream. A gut –wrenching scream, a scream so tortured it turned my blood cold. It sent a shiver down my spine. My heart was crushed as they took away the screaming squirming kid away. “What a freak.” I heard people whisper. Guilt threatened to choke me, but yet I still did nothing. Two weeks later in the newspaper I read of his suicidal death. Tears and guilt overwhelm me as I sat there helpless once again. I’m sorry; I didn’t save you when I had the chance. I’m sorry I watched you get tortured and just stood there. I’m sorry I didn’t prevent it when I was always there. I’m sorry this happened, but most of all. I’m sorry that because of me you are no longer here.