I sit in the back row of the church, far away from the corpse. This is stupid. I killed her. Should I really be at her funeral? I guess a better question is; Am I even allowed at her funeral? She hid her pain well, the pain from me, the bully. It was a shock, when they found her dead in the river. No one knows why she did it, some actually thought she fell. I am the only one who knows for sure, that it was a suicide. I called her fat, ugly, idiot, insane. And when I saw that was hurting her, I tried even harder. That was when I beat her up. Two weeks after that, she killed herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Not her, me. But, no one needs to know. I can hide it. As I walk up to the body I stare into her lifeless face for the last time. Words echo into my head; I can hide it, no one needs to know. I can hide it.... Suddenly I feel sick. I run for the bathrooms at the back of the church just barely making it. How can I live, knowing I killed her?