I couldn’t breathe. Sweat began to leak out of the pours of my skin. I could still hear all the screaming from my curled position on the couch. I tried to block it out by closing my head inside two patterned couch cushions to give myself even just a second to think about what I’d just done. But there was no getting out of it. It happened it was now in the book of the past. Also there was no escaping the fact that I did it. No one else, but me. I’m responsible for all that had been done.