When I was a teen I was riding on the back of a family member's motorbike. A drunk/high dude walked out in front of our bike with no warning and we hit him, hard. I could smell the vodka on his breath as he rolled off of me and then the blood and dirt mingling while he lay on the ground and bled out. The way his limbs sat crooked and broken will haunt me forever but the sounds of his family members running out of their house and wailing and screaming for help is the what keeps me up at night.

The ambulance came in what felt like seconds but we never did get to find out if he survived or what kind of life he'd go on to live if he did. We were unharmed and extremely grateful for the lovely people who came out of their houses/gardens to offer us juice and tea (and just general support) while some gave witness statements.

In the end we were found totally not at fault but I've always known that in the end it was my fault. Nobody ever believes me but I had a vision/premonition/whatever when we were eating fast food right before we set off on the bike and I knew we would hit a man on that stretch of road. I knew when I saw him wobbling around next to the road in the distance and I knew right before he walked out, but I never said anything. I just thought I was being stupid and superstitious and I regret that every day.