When I was 15 my family had moved into a new neighborhood. Our neighbor was packing his rifles and guns away in his truck and asked if I wanted to take a look. My mom wasn’t so keen on the idea but he assured us the safety was on. It wasn’t. When the gun was placed in my hands, it immediately went off. Right then his 9 year old son came running out the house and the bullet went through him.

He wasn’t killed, but he became paralyzed. 16 years later I still remember it. His mother harrased my family for years until I finally moved away. I haven’t even been bothered to have kids of my own as I struggled with it. And even though the police cleared me for any wrongdoing I still blame myself for it.