I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.

I suppose I'll be remembered as dull. Timid. No one ever knew me. People came. They went. I was kind, I think. Not sympathetic, but considerate of others. I always gave up my place in line. I loaned out pencils and paper, or let people take them from me. I never reported a sexual assault.

The truth remains. I was, and am, disgusted with myself.

Why am i here? What's my purpose?

This is my fault. Mine. Making her think I'd be here for her.

As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.

But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in; letting the secret blacken me.