I was seven at the time, so I really didn’t know what was happening. I just knew it was a place to sit, a place where I could be alone, and I went there often.

So one day I’m sitting there, and someone joins me. I can’t really see him, and he can’t really see me, but we are aware of each other. And he just starts talking.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I did something bad.” I don’t say a word. I’ve got nothing to say to that. For God’s sakes, I’m only seven. He doesn’t give a shit—he keeps going.

“I killed someone, but it was an accident.” I go dead silent. Barely breathing. Maybe I can act like a statue and he’ll think no one’s there. That’s what I was thinking.

“She walked into my life. Into my home. And then she started pushing me, prodding me. It’s like she wanted me to break. It’s like she wanted me to lash out. She wanted me to finish her.”

My dad’s in the car. My mom’s in the bathroom. And I’m here.