Vacant

You look at me, eyes vacant, and I wonder if  if you are really with me.  What happened was not our fault,  yet you cannot forgive yourself for not saving him in time, nor stop placing the blame on me as well. The thoughts and memories of that day play continuously through my mind.  The cold damp wind, I can still feel it on my face as we approached the door that night.  She had reached his house before we did. What if we got there sooner, could she have been stopped?  The torture he endured at her hands left a lasting mark.  I shall not soon forget the bloody runny handprints on the wall, the signs of begging for her mercy. What makes a person turn that way , take the life of another for their own gratification? We will never know nor be able to turn back the clock for we failed to step in. To reach the door in time