There was his body lying on the floor. As still as a rock. Not a single movement. Not even his breathing made him move. He was still, eyes closed and pale face. This was not normal. Was he dead?

Oh God. What had I done? This could not be happening, he wasn’t dead and I had nothing to with what ever happened. I didn’t remember much of what happened the night before at the party. I only remember his face, his drunk breath and I exploding with anger. The rest was a blur in my memory.

I heard some foot steps to the door of the dark room with no windows. A voice from the hallway getting louder, “Sam where are you?” It was Ben calling me.

“Uhh.” I managed to say. My head felt like it was about to explode probably form everything I had to drink the night before.

“Sam, I’ve been looking for you every where. What happened last night? I didn’t see you again after you got mad at Cole for all that about your girlfriend,” he said as he came into the room. He looked around the room and found the answer to his question. “Sam, please tell me you didn’t”

“I don’t know. I hope not,” I responded with a confused look on my face. “I don’t remember anything. I just woke up and saw him there.”

“Sam. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I think you did.”

“No, Ben! I couldn’t have. My life will be ruined.” I yelled back. This can’t be happening, I thought to myself.

Ben just stood there at the door frame with a worried look on his face. He and I were thinking the same thing: it happened. The look on Ben’s face was priceless and I’m sure I had the same one. If it did happen I had to do something about it.

Then it came to me, last night came to life. There was Cole’s face on the other side of the room, sitting next to my girlfriend, Britney. I just lost it, that hadn’t been the first time I saw them together flirting with each other. Cole had asked me to go with him to another room, so that nobody saw while he beat me up. Somehow when we got there I killed him. That couldn't be true, I wasn’t a murderer. I keep telling myself over and over.

I didn’t kill him.

I didn’t kill him.

I didn’t kill him.

That had to be true, and I had to believe it.