Closing the Wound

On a Saturday morning in early February of 2002, the phone rang. How was I supposed to know the voice on the other end would ask a question I dreaded answering?

“What happened that night?”

That night was Halloween of 1995, when a young man was brutally murdered.

Swallowed by a rush of memories and the word, Goodbye, I took a trip to the past, where some wounds never heal. This is my story.