I die daily whenever I’d see the stairway to his room. The old stairway left painful marks in my chest. How could I be so selfish and stupid? Regrets keep haunting me to my bed that it even drive sleep away. What I did that time wounded my own heart and even torn it apart. Wounds may heal but they leave scars and the scars inside my heart will forever be apparent. I am James Harold, 19, from New York, only son of Robert and Alice Harold. I believe in second chances and this was my story…All Rights Reserved