I struggle to stifle my sobs when I remember the guy at the club. I wonder if he's still alive and if I'll ever be able to live with the fact that a man died because of my reckless actions.

I was furious, yeah, but is that enough reason to kiss another guy? The thought of it makes me utterly disgusted with myself.

How could I have been so careless, so thoughtless? Each passing moment I'm haunted by the image of his face.

With a tight fist, he started the engine, his jaw clenched, gripping the ...