His screams and pleas for help echo against the rocky walls. I drop to my knees, peering over the edge, gripping onto a spiky plant which draws a bit of blood. I don't care, because I know Erin will feel more pain than me. I see him falling, his arms flailing about trying to grab onto something to stop him from dying.
I feel scared.
I feel confused.
What should I do? I can't do anything.
I'm hopeless.
Tears blur my vision, and I start sobbing loudly.
All of a sudden, the screaming stops.

Erin's mother got up, and with tears in her eyes, she begins her speech.
"Erin was always helpful. He never complained about not having a father figure, he was such a strong boy. Erin got such a great education too, and he never fought with me as well. He was the perfect little child. He had such an amazing philosophical view on life, and used that in his writing. Even if he had his own problems, he would always have a smile on his face. I love you halfway to the moon, back, to the moon, and back,
Erin, as we always say." She laughed a bit at the end, but she still had waterfalls of tears flowing from her eyes.
The police had recovered Erin's body, he was lying in the coffin now. His mum wasn't angry with me, she had told me that all I was doing was taking photos of him, and that it was an accident. But it wasn't, if I had chosen to not take him, then this wouldn't have happened. I just wanted her to yell at me.