No one else knew. No one else could ever know. His secret. His past.
Only he knew.
From the darkness he watched the world from afar. A forgotten little boy, a child with a secret. The grown man had forgotten that day so long ago, he had forgotten the terror of consequence. He had forgotten what the little boy had done.
No longer would she ever laugh.
The day the little boy stopped being a little boy.
Never again would she run over the logs and rocks of the forest ground.
Never smile, never cry.
Never run from danger.
The grown man did no longer remember, but the little boy could never forget. Trapped in his prison of fear and sorrow he clung to the memory of himself. Every once in a while he laughed. An evil giggle even the grown man could hear, that made his blood freeze to ice.
He knew the little boy was there. He had always known. He had always known that some day the little boy would be back.