Arrin lay on his back with his coat and shoes still on and stared up at the ceiling wishing with all his heart it was somehow possible to travel back in time. He would return to his large, comfortable home after a satisfying night of exacting revenge for his brothers, greet his wife and daughter with hugs and kisses, and take them sailing on the massive lake behind his home. But there was no going back to better days. He was stuck in the here and now with a hundred and a half years or more ahead of him filled with remorse and guilt. How many more lives would he take over the course of his life? How much more guilt would be added to the heavy burden he now carried? How would he endure it all since he’d so shortsightedly given his word of honor to never again try to take his own life?

Please subscribe to keep reading.