If only I hadn’t driven him to it. If only I hadn’t teased him .If only I didn’t beat him up. If only I had been his friend.
No wonder I have no friends. No wonder everyone
hated me. Why did I pick on him? He’d not harmed me. I really wanted to be his
friend but he was different. He was clever. I was dumb. He was nice. I was
horrible. I dared not to pick the gun up for fear of being blamed.
Blood dripped off the wall; the hole in his head was neatly drilled, killing him painlessly. I knew everyone would blame me. I fingered the note on the table saying that he had had enough of being bullied.
I turned and ran. I wanted to get as far a way as possible from the body. I hated my self for what had happened.