INTRODUCTION

An insipid heart can be so effortlessly corrupted when amidst those of sinister intent, this is what my youth taught me. You see, when most people think in retrospect to their childhood it’s those most precious and tender of moments they confide in as age draws away all that we once treasured of youth’s naivete.

Summer gallivants through suburbia with a merry band of delinquents on bicycles, the insolent classroom mischief invigorating the teacher with an ever growing yearning to retire as soon as possible, the bittersweet first young love that must inevitably come to an end, the teenhood escapes by night out the bedroom window which you hope to remain confidential from your parents for years to come, sometimes their just what you need to bring a hint of clarity to a life that often insists on beating you down. 

But for me, these are the memories which bring nought but disgust in myself for the part I played in the permanent scarring of my town and the lives of one too many innocents. I’ll save you my ramblings of regret, I want not to persuade you of my innocence nor my guilt but I will instead put to you now how it is the monster we created came to be.