I wring my hands, like cloth, in an attempt to clear myself of the blood spilt this evening. It is no use, I have no hope. I am doomed. C'est la vie they say, but I feel there is always something more that I can do. I've tried this a million times, but I seem only to find myself submerged in failure.

You could help, but you're too busy with your own issues. The knife, the needle, and the fire's damage that has been done. You can't undo the past, but you can attempt to alter the future. But how is that even possible? I do believe it is in all eyes considered impossible. You are tempting the gods of fate. They will call in the karma police and do away with you.

I stand alone with my head in my hands. Crying seems to be the only reconciliation I can provide for the death of this poor soul. Again, I'd like to apologize, but it had to be done. The information he carried in his fragile brain was enough to send me to the darkest corners of the region's largest prison. I had no hope. Now I have a new lease on life. Now, thanks to you, I am free. But the guilt..... How can I escape the thought that this man will never see the sun rise or set again? I cannot. I am doomed to live with regrets and the pain of hiding. The pain of hiding.

© J. Bernhard

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