I looked past Norman’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes. He tried to lay a hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off.

He sighed explosively. “Look you knew we were all drunk and blazed. Why didn’t you speak up?”

I let the silence between us grow, hoping that he would answer his own question. I knew from how emotional I was getting, that my craziness was rising with my pain.

When I finally did answer, my voice sounded far away, as if I was hearing myself across a long, dark lake. “You’re right, it’s my fault I got left behind.”

The words sounded sarcastic but I really meant it. It was my fault. It was my fault for trusting them, for expecting something from my friends. I never learned.

“That’s not what I meant. I was worried about you and felt bad once I figured out that we had left you behind.”

“You felt bad?” I snarled. Closing my eyes, I tried to swallow my anger. I couldn’t control the tone but I could control the volume. Lowering my voice, I continued. “What gives you any right at all to feel bad?”