TONY MOGAN reveals his guilty secret

It’s 3:37 am. I’ve been sat in this dark room, hunched over my laptop, eyes fixated on the screen for coming up to seven hours now. I’m exhausted, weighed down by stress and apprehension, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. I have to be up for university in four hours and I know, despite the optimism that whirled around my weary mind earlier, that I haven’t gone it in me to pull this off. I shouldn’t leave things until the last minute. Whatever I do now, it won’t make a difference.
A last-minute attem...