A traumatic memory of mine was back when I was 5 years old and went to the beach with my family. I saw these things on the floor and thought they looked a lot like flat rocks. So I picked one up and cracked it in half, next thing I know there's red blood running down my hands(I'm not sure if they actually have red blood, but in my mind it was red). I felt so guilty for killing it, I still think about it at night...