"So yeah, the ambulances showed up a little while later, and that's when they confirmed it. He was dead and it looked like it was a heart attack, and I was one lucky kid. And by the way, he was drunk; so I was even luckier that he didn't wrap the truck around a tree of throw it off a bridge somewhere. And I never really said anything to anyone about it after that, even though there were times that I wanted to, times when I felt really guilty about it and thought that no one would believe me, say I was making things up when I was drunk or when I need some attention. I never really said anything about it for another reason, too, being that I was worried that I’d end up going to jail for killing him, that somehow they'd go back and be able to punish me for it, and that scared the hell out of me. I guess I am just a big coward about that issue, the truth as a whole, because I never really went and found the authorities after that, never even explained it to my mother, just kind of went on my way at that point, paying the bills with the money we had stashed away, until I was 18 and I sold the house and told mom she needed to get her own place. Hell, you guys are the first people to ever find out the truth, so I guess that means I trust the hell out of you now. If we get out of this situation, I guess we’ll all owe each other something, or just nothing." He stopped talking, then, and sat very still, as if he was waiting to see what we 'd said to him, or if we'd pass judgment on him in some way.

 

 

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