Ashamed
The morning sunlight broke through the thin veil of mist that lingered over the hill and stretched out into the distance. The fields surrounding the steep mount were a checkered pattern of different shades of green and brown, thin lines of hedges separating them. Trees were scattered sparsely throughout the fields but grew more densely upon the slopes of the knoll. In the centre of the clearing was a small lake, which a shallow creek fed into, sending ripples across the murky, stagnant water.
I was kneeled down beside the lake, allowing the tips of my fingers to skim the surface of the water, as if bathing my hands in the water would somehow cleanse my conscience. But the water was polluted… tainted, as was I. My expression remained cold and vacant. Leon… that was my name, I remembered it now. A few tears escaped the crevices of my eyes and rolled smoothly down my whitened face, beginning to dampen the collar of the shirt I wore. Why didn’t I stop him? Thoughts and questions clouded my mind as I struggled to envision the night it had happened. Was it really only three days ago? I removed my trembling hands from the water and caressed the knife in my hands. I ran my thumb along the edge of the cool, sharp blade. It was such a simple tool, with such deadly potential.
I turned to the hollow log I knelt beside. Knife in hand, I began to dig down into the splintered wood, slowly gauging letters into the surface of the log. I wasn’t sure where I was or what I was doing, but none of that mattered. Only the guilt. The guilt that threatened to smother and consume my mind, until I was left broken and unsalvageable. I felt my left hand rise to my neck, and I held the blade tightly against my throat.
My mind flashed back to that day, the day that created the dark memories of which haunted my mind.
It had been raining; the air was moist with humidity. The bottom of my shoes squelched with each step as I strode across the wet car park. I walked quickly, as punctuality was one of my better traits. I had fallen out with my sister Melody prior to leaving, forcing me to depart later than planned. Now that I look back, the fight was pointless; however I left my sister’s place in a rage I struggled to control.
I saw Jason in the distance, lounging nonchalantly against the bus shelter wall with his familiar quirky smile tugging at his lips. A cold gust of wind breezed by as I reached my friend, who greeted me with a widened smile.

“Bit cold, isn’t it?” Jason smirked.
“Damn right it is.” A cold chill ran down my spine as the win buffeted the shelter. In my fury I had forgotten my jacket at Melody’s place.
A few seconds of silence passed then Jason suggested they make for the nearby coffeehouse. I eagerly agreed.
We both collapsed into the closest booth upon arrival, allowing the heat to seep back into us from the radiator we sat by.
Jason turned towards me. “Want anything?”
“Hot chocolate.”
“Right season for it.” Jason said, chuckling lightly to himself.
Jason left to order drinks which gave me some time alone to take in my surroundings. Bright yellow wallpaper was peeling off the poster covered walls, the decoration was unpleasant. I strained to hear the soft music playing in the background. None of it succeeded in lifting my mood.
Jason then returned with a metal tray supporting two drinks and a couple of croissants. I exhaled heavily, I hated croissants.
“Thanks.” I said grimly.
After we finished our drinks and I forced a few bites, we agreed it was time to leave and returned to the cold outside. I made a couple more bitter remarks about the weather, glaring off in to the distance.
Jason merely laughed, mockingly. “Serves you right, what kind of prick leaves their jacket at home on a day like this?”
It was only a joke, I knew. But somehow that one comment managed to unleash every bit of rage I had built up inside me. My expression turned stone cold as I turned to Jason and plunged my fist into Jason’s unsuspecting face. I felt the cartilage shatter as blood began to trickle out from his nose. He stumbled backwards on to the ground with a look of pure shock. I edged closer to him, but with a grunt he managed to get himself up off the ground and sprinted out towards the road without any hesitation.
It seemed to happen in slow motion, I saw the over-sized silver Chevy speeding down the street moments before it was thrust in to Jason. His arms flailed as he was hurled through the air like a rag doll. He landed with a sickening thud on to the pavement on the other side. Then I was suddenly running, before I realized it I had sprinted across the road and on to the opposite path, where Jason lay motionless. I checked for a pulse and when I felt none, I yelled. I yelled until my throat was hoarse and I could no longer produce any sound. He was gone… The only person I incessantly respected had been ripped out of my life, and it was my fault.
So I ran, I ran for hours without any sense of direction, I just had to get away. It was entirely my fault, and I hated myself for it. Eventually the exhaustion took over, and I collapsed into a state of darkness.
I awoke on a hill, with a lake I sat by for days.
Finally I knew what to do. I pushed the knife into my throat, and felt myself begin to choke. But I was not afraid, as the life was draining from my body. I wasn’t afraid... I was ashamed.