Confession, by Archana Nagarajan

I always dread playgrounds. It is an unrealistic fear for someone my age but the sight and sound of squeaky seesaws, shrieking children and dogs running in circles with their tongues out gives me the chills. I wasn’t like this before the accident. Back in the days when even minor incidents made local headlines, I was on the front page of every newspaper in town. ‘Girl, 3, trips, hits head on metal post and dies.’ Her name was Sarah. I remember how cute she looked before the accident. Afterward, she was all bloody. Nobody saw me trip her.