I parked my car into one of the parking slots surrounding the park and made my way towards the swings. This broke down park still looked as empty and abandoned as when I was a kid. I browsed the three swings available and decided on the one that looked like it wouldn’t fall apart once I put my weight on it. I pushed my feet hard against the wood chip covered floor to get a momentum going, and watched some of the wood chips go flying into the air. I felt a sense of nostalgia as I felt the wind push against my face with every swing forward, and a sense of regret for what I was about to get myself into. Around the seventh push against the ground I finally heard footsteps approaching behind me. I got up from the swing and patted the wood chips off my clothes before I took a deep breath. Every nerve in my body was in protest against the presence that was just inches behind me. Even i wondered if any of the actions I’ve made would make a difference to the harsh reality I faced. Regardless, I turned around and was met with a pair of brown eyes staring right back at me. The same pair of eyes I followed twelve years ago looking for a sense of naive comfort, the same eyes I looked into for guidence when I had none. And the same eyes that showed no remorse when I felt the sharp pain of the knife that was pushed into my stomach all those years ago.