I put on my mask and entered the building. I quickly scanned the directory. There were doctors, lawyers, accountants and numerous consultants. I really needed to talk to someone. But, who?

My name is Paula. I am five foot four, weigh less than one hundred pounds and I am in my early seventies. But, most importantly, as I said before, I really need to talk to someone. I have been carrying an awful secret for over sixty years.

I just don't know who to talk to! If I were Catholic, I could go to Confession. But I am not Catholic, in fact I am not anything. Since that day, I gave up on everything that I learned in Sunday school.

I could talk to a friend; but, since that day I do not have any friends. Perhaps a few acquaintances at work and my drunken seventy year old boyfriend who I only see occasionally so that we can satisfy each other's physical needs. Basically I am a nonbelieving recluse.

I could talk to the police; but I might end up in jail.

I really need to talk to someone!

Back when I was nine years old, I lived in a large house in a nice middle class neighborhood. We had three bedrooms and a two car detached garage. The back wall of the garage was right next to a rusty old chain link fence. There was, at most, a foot between them.

Since my best friend, Tina, and I were very small and thin, we made this area are own private clubhouse. My mother told me many times not to play back there but who listens to their mother. She even threatened me with no TV if she ever caught me back there, which, of course, made it even more attractive.

One day, just as the Sun was going down, Tina and I were playing there and Tina's arm got caught, actually impaled, on the rusty old fence. I tried to help her get loose but the wire had gone through her skin. She was crying and I said that I would go get help.

As I worked my out of our club house, I heard my mother calling me for dinner. I ran to the house and as I ran in the kitchen door, my mother yelled: "Where have you been?! I have been calling you for half an hour!"

I knew I was in big trouble and it would only get worse if I told her where I was and what had happened, so I decided to just eat dinner and then go back out and check on Tina. If she needed help, I would go to her house and get her Mother.

Dinner seemed to take forever and then I had to help clear the table and dry the dishes. Finally I grabbed a flashlight and rushed to the clubhouse. Tina was still there. There was a lot of blood all over the place. There was blood on the fence, on the back of garage and on her clothes. She was sound asleep.

I decided that maybe when she woke up we could figure out what to do. Then my mother started yelling that it was bath and bed time. As I got up to go home, I promised Tina that I would come back in the morning and everything would be OK. She did not answer.

Later that night there was a knock on our front door. I crawled out of bed and heard my parents talking to a policeman. He was looking for Tina. My parents said that they had no idea where she was. Now I was really scared. If the police were involved this was really serious. I was scared and did not know what to do, so I crawled back into bed and cried myself to sleep.

Even after all these years they never found her. Both her parents and my parents went to their graves and never knew what happened.

I know that I was only nine. I know that I was not responsible for Tina getting hurt. But, I also know that I could have saved her and I did not! I really should have spoken up!

I really need to talk to someone.

I wonder if there are other people out there who were scared and cried themselves to sleep when they should have spoken up.

Who should I talk to?