by Erin Cole

Created on: May 04, 2009   Last Updated: May 28, 2009

It was the first time I had ever seen a dead person and I never imagined it would be of my own doing. He just came out of nowhere. There was no time to stop. The gravel road was dark and curvy...I think I was going the speed limit. Headed home, I had just left my girlfriend's apartment, deeply upset about her decision to keep the baby. At eighteen, I was still a kid myself with my whole life ahead of me. But that was one minute ago.

My truck finally came to a dusty stop. Oh God, what did I do? I thought. I glimpsed in the rear view mirror, cringing at what I might see since I could barely dissect a frog in science class. A quick inspection through the glove box for first aid turned out fruitless, and I stepped from the truck empty handed, no bandages, no braces, no flashlight just a scrap of courage.

My presence echoed through the still night as my footsteps crunched along the sandy rocks. My lungs labored in rhythm with my heart and my eyes anxiously combed the ditch. Ahead, I noticed the illumination of light-colored clothing and my pace quickened against my will. I had to help this person despite the terror that knotted in my gut. A mental rummage of first-aid techniques slopped into my memory, but when I approached, it became apparent I wouldn't need to check a pulse or tie a tourniquet.

His eyes opened to the stars above us.

I came around the man's right side. Years were something he'd seen many of. Around his forehead and nose were drops of blood, and probably somewhere else too, but I was too afraid to look further. His head tilted towards the bottom of the ditch and a light blue terrycloth robe splayed around him. I thought to check his pants for I.D., but there were no pockets. It seemed odd to me that he was wearing a robe and leather moccasins on a dirt road in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, the hum of a car sounded down the road and I shifted nervously, wondering what to do. Seconds later, lights beamed around the corner. I panicked. For the reality of the situation was me leaning over a man I had just killed. Fleeing the scene tempted me, but I had a responsibility. This man deserved justice. Before I could change my mind, a vehicle pulled up in front of me, and my fatal error was about to be exposed to the world. Then it dawned on me why had the van stopped? How did the driver know I needed help?

I squinted against the headlights as three dark figures emerged from the car. They walked

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