When I was twelve, a group of boys from my street persuaded me to venture out into the wood with them, to the stream that lay deep beneath the rotting wood and sun dried leaves.
I almost died that day.-Because I trusted too easily.Because I believed everything that they said.
That it wasn't deep.That's the current wasn't as strong as it looked.That I was safe with them.
Strips of golden sun peaked through the branches above. The boys laughed amongst themselves, snickering and punching one another.
"Are you sure it's safe?" I asked, my voice shaking from the cold. My body quivering, crossing my arms in an attempt to find some sort of warmth in the evening chill. The sun was setting and a premature twilight began to fall over the wood.
"Amora, it's fine. Just do it!" One of them shouted
