**Diary Entry**
I did what I thought was right.
“Hello, Katie, can’t talk long—they’re beating up Nick.” Those words hit me like a bolt from the blue. Katherine froze, her fingers tightening around the phone. Her heart pounded, adrenaline sharp in her veins. She didn’t even get a chance to ask before the call cut out. Her husband had gone out for a pint with his mate at the pub after work—just a regular Friday. Now, everything had changed.
Katherine grabbed her keys and rushed out the door, dialling Nick’s number again and again with no answer. Dread coiled tighter with every ring. Finally, she got through to his friend, who’d been there.
“What the hell were you thinking, leaving him like that?!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Why didn’t you help him? Why call me instead of the police?!”
The friend stammered, saying he panicked, that he wanted her to know what happened. His shaky excuses only fuelled her rage. “Oh, so you ducked out just fine, did you? Left my husband alone out there! Do you even realise what you’ve done?!”
She raced to the scene, desperate to get there in time—but when she arrived, the street was empty. A police car had already taken Nick away. Katherine stood there, utterly helpless.
The next morning, she went to the station and learned he’d been arrested for “disorderly conduct.” Some passerby had called it in as a brawl, but no one had seen the truth—that a group of lads had jumped him. To the police, it just looked like he’d started it.
She was furious, arguing that Nick was the victim, but the officers just shrugged. His so-called friend? Already home, sound asleep, as if nothing had happened.
It took all day to track down witnesses. Finally, someone confirmed seeing Nick attacked. That was enough to get him released.
That evening, Katherine waited outside the station. When Nick emerged, exhausted and shaken, she hugged him tightly, pouring everything she felt into that embrace—but anger still simmered beneath. She couldn’t forgive his friend’s cowardice. Nick was lucky it hadn’t been worse.
Later, Nick called him. “How could you just stand there and watch?”
“I don’t know, mate,” the friend mumbled. “I was scared. Wanted to help, but I—I couldn’t. You know I’ve always been a coward. First thing I thought was saving myself. Sounds awful, but it’s the truth. I did what I thought was right.”
“Right,” Nick said flatly, hanging up. *What good’s a friend like that?*
The friend tried explaining later—that cowardice wasn’t a choice, just who he was. He wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t change. His whole life, he’d dodged fights, avoided trouble. That night was just another proof of his weakness. He swore it shouldn’t ruin their friendship. Just have another pint, smooth things over.
No excuse was enough. Nick was done with him.
