5
Richard sat on the steps of the ancient bandstand in Vale Park, face in his hands, weighed down with the shame and the guilt coursing through him like a stream of pure, molten self-loathing. Fear had conquered him, taken over his sense of justice. All that had mattered, in that fetid, putrid moment of horror, was an unconquerable desire for self-preservation. Up until now, he never believed he could feel like this way, always thinking that something set him apart, that somewhere within was a core of righteousness which placed him above others. Now he realised this was not true, had never been true, and the knowledge was crushing. He had deceived himself. The reality of who he was filled him with self-loathing and shame. He was nothing more than a miserable coward.
And Eddy had suffered
