I feel horrible about this every single day, and I've never told anyone. I just needed to say it somewhere.

I haven been best friends with this guy since kindergarten. We used to hang out all the time, and our families were super close, too. We went to the same schools together up until 10th grade, when he became homeschooled.

This happened in 9th grade. It was a new school, and neither of us really knew anyone, so we stuck together for the first few weeks. Even after we found other friends, I kept a close eye on him to make sure he was ok.

About a month into the school year, I notice something. He's been coming in with cuts and bruises all over him every day. Other people notice too, and they ask him about it. He just says that it was from his cats, or that he fell down yesterday, or whatever gets people to stop asking him. Everyone else buys it, but I don't. I've know this kid a long time, so I can tell when he's lying. I know somethings going on, but I have no proof, so I keep my mouth shut.

A couple weeks later, my dad can't give me a ride home from school, so I'm supposed to go home with my friend and his dad. We live near each other, so it's not a big deal for them to drive me home. So I get in the car, and can immediatly tell that somethings wrong. The tension between the two of them is thick enough to cut with a knife. Throughout the ride, I notice that the dad is acting almost hostile towards his son. My friend is quieter than usual the whole time, hardly saying a word. Finally, we pull up at my house and I get out of the car. Just as I'm about to head inside, I turn back to the car. I see that my friend's dad is shouting at him, and my friend is visibly scared, shaking. I don't know what to do, so I do nothing. I just go inside without a second glance.

Later that night when I'm lying in bed, I finally put all the pieces together. My best friend was being abused by his dad. I had no idea what to do with this information, or who to tell about it. I though about it all night, and even though I knew I had to do something, there was a small part of my brain that was telling me I shouldn't. It told me that I don't have enough evidence and people will laugh in my face if I try to tell them. It told me that if I'm wrong about this, no one will ever trust me again. It told me that my own reputation was most important here, that it wasn't my responsibility to get involved. And I believed it, so I said nothing.

It was another year before the truth came to light and the abuse finally ended. My parents sat me down that night and told me everything that had happened. I felt horrible, disgusted with myself. I had been right the entire time, and if I had said something, maybe it could have ended sooner.

I feel like it's my fault my best friend had to endure another year of abuse, and it's something I'll never be able to forgive myself for. I don't know how move past this, but I am thankful that he's finally safe, and maybe he'll be able to be happy now.