I look back on my childhood with a mixture of emotions. They were the best and worst years of my life. My friends Chris Lester, Charlie Beaumont and Louis Johnson would probably agree. We were the best of friends, always together and there for each other.

Our bond would be tested one dismal October morning, when we’d commit a murder in the woods around our hometown.

What followed was a cover-up whilst trying to pretend nothing had happened. During this time, I watched my friends succumb to their emotions, and also the lingering presence of the person we had killed.