I was barely sixteen when it happened. Although I’m six years older and six years wiser, I remember that daunting day and the mental state I was in as if it happened just last week. Error and trial has failed me over and over again in the attempt to forget the summer of 2003, I’m starting to think that this painful memory will forever exist in my head, picking at my thoughts, draining my concentration and weakening my stomach until it breaks me down. Despite my efforts in trying to forget and the disturbing emotional power it has over me, here I stand, about to either destroy someone’s life or positively change it forever.

The man that stands just a few feet in front of me probably doesn’t recognize me, but he will. I approached him with no thoughts of what to say. The only thoughts I possessed was what to do with the six-inch knife I was gripping on to. I knew then what the outcome of my visit would be.