Flash fiction: “What had I done?”

What had I done? I always knew what I was doing was wrong. That it was bad for me, but this was far worse than anything I had ever imagined.

They had come here to help, but so far nothing much had happened; at least nothing that made me feel better.

What had I done?

How could I have let it go this far? Why didn’t I do something, anything, before it got to this point?

Those people are sitting with my mother in the kitchen. They’re talking; I don’t want to know what they’re saying. I’m about to lose everything, and it’s all my fault.

How could I have done this to myself? Why did I continue even after I knew that it would only bring me sadness?

What had I done to my family?

My mother was crying in the kitchen.

Why did I do this to her?

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