Diary of a Teenage Murderer

by Emlyn Hall

trip. Here I was, camped just off the South Downs Way, easy prey for the uncaptured, cheek-biting, throat-slashing homicidal maniac that roams these very paths.

  After a night of fighting back images of slashed throats, the cold and my reoccurring dream of the hotel and the tunnels, I got up in the morning more tired than I did when I lay down to sleep.

  I decided that I would walk again today and further decided that my initial plan of heading towards the New Forest was as good as any at the moment.

  I packed up the tent and equipment and did my best to randomly distribute the leaves and sticks around the area, to ensure that it didn’t look camped on. I set off again on the South Downs Way towards Winchester. I figured that once (or rather if) I get to Winchester I would buy a map and a compass so I knew exactly where the hell I was going.

  I walked just off the main path so I could dip out of view if I saw people ahead. I followed the path through fields, woodlands and long grass. The going was pretty slow, in part because of the terrain, but mainly because I was carrying so much stuff and my back hurt like a bugger from sleeping rough. As I walked I tried to clear my mind, I concentrated on the scenery and sound of the surroundings and my own breathing. Today was quite cold and for most of the morning I was producing long trains of mist with every exhale. Watching this flow forward and disappear sent me into a trance.

  I crossed the A286 road that was signposted to Midhurst (which I think means I am about half-way to Winchester). I have played golf with my dad in Midhurst a couple of times, I should point out that I am rubbish at golf and only ever play my dad two or three times a year. But as rubbish as I am, I always seem to beat him! This winds him up no end, as he does have an over-inflated opinion of his golfing ability. Fortunately the path was empty for the majority of the day, I only needed to ‘vanish’ on two occasions. I may have been spotted by a few cars as I crossed over the road, but a bloke carrying a backpack along the South Downs Way is very unlikely to stick out like a sore thumb.

  Night was closing in so I decided to set up camp. I pitched my tent as I had previously, in a small area of trees about 100 metres away from the path. I ate the last bit of pasta and rice I had saved and looked longingly at the few tins I had brought along with me, my kingdom for a tin opener (mine seems to have gone missing!). I am absolutely starving and almost completely out of water. I will definitely have to chance it tomorrow and visit a shop to stock up, I’m not looking forward to that.

  The walking bits in the open air parts of my day are fine, although I do spend a lot of it just trying to blank my mind. The big problem is when I am in my tent. I am going mad with boredom. It’s a good job I am tired tonight though or I know my mind would again start to wander. I am scared, I really don’t mind admitting that. And I’m scared of the dark, of the loneliness, of the unknown, of the consequences of what I have done. The nights have been pitch black, but there is no hiding from your own mind.

  Saturday, March 25th

  It must have been very cold last night as when I woke up this morning the inside of the tent and all my stuff was soaking. I have never been a big one for baths and showers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a smelly lad. But I have always seen them as a bit of a pain in the ass, and a waste of my time. I would give anything now for a warm bubble bath and a cup of tea. If my soggy tent and clothes wasn’t bad enough, it absolutely pissed down today. I am bound to get pneumonia or something else equally horrific which requires my needing medical attention. What the hell do I do then?

  Bizarrely I am writing this in a bush in a park in the middle of Winchester!

  I walked a fair ol’ distance today (amazing when you consider just how much it rained) and my legs are now incredibly sore, particularly my knees. I suppose they hurt so much as I again spent much of my time walking off the path to avoid attention. I reached the outskirts of Winchester at about 6:30pm and it was already getting pretty dark. This was ideal, low light meant that I felt alright about walking in the streets (even if I did stand out a bit with my huge soggy rucksack and sleeping bag!). My first stop was a small newsagent; this was to be my first contact with another human since I set off from Worthing so I left my kit outside – I didn’t want to attract too much attention or receive any awkward questions. I bought a 1.5 litre bottle of water, a newspaper (The Sun – classy), a chicken sandwich and five Mars bars. That all came to the princely sum of £5.20 (quite pricey, I thought, especially given how shite the sandwich was!).

  I needn’t have feared being identified, as the small Asian man behind the counter didn’t even look me in the face and all I managed during the whole transaction was a croaky “Thanks”.

  I was still soaking and felt I needed to at least change and have a quick wash. I followed the signs to the train station which again was thankfully very quiet, washed and brushed my teeth in the sink and changed in a cubical. I instantly felt better and more relaxed, so relaxed that I even managed to have my first bowel movement since Thursday night! Before leaving the toilet I spent 10 minutes drying out the inside of my sleeping bag under the hand dryer.

  God must have decided to give me a break today as nobody came in to use the toilet while I was there and it had even stopped raining when I left.

  I wandered the streets aimlessly, as if looking for something but not knowing what it was. It was nice to walk past people again. I was nervous at first, but people are so preoccupied with their own lives that they don’t really notice you. I walked down ordinary streets, streets like mine. I saw families sitting in front of the television and laughing, families like mine. I saw people getting out of cars, late home from work with tired but happy faces. Happy that they were home. I wish I was home. My little brother, Mum and Dad. I miss being moaned at. I miss home. I miss Sasha. I walked for a bit more to clear my head.

  By the time I realized how dark it was it must have been approaching 9:30pm and I was getting very tired. I can’t tell you how tempted I was to just spend some of my remaining money on a bed and breakfast! Saying that, I probably wouldn’t have had enough anyway. Instead, I found a big park completely surrounded by bushes and trees. I walked all the way around it until I found a dense looking area of bushes and crept in. I broke a few branches here and there and just managed to squeeze the tent in, albeit a bit wonky! I hung up my wet clothes out the front of the tent and have settled down. I would have to get up early tomorrow if I am not to be seen by too many people. Once I had settled down and climbed inside my sleeping bag I checked the newspaper I had bought using my torch (note to self, get more batteries). There was not one thing about me within it, that’s good I suppose, at least I have not made the nationals. I will see if I can pick up a more local paper tomorrow.

  As I have been laying here I have been thinking about leaving the UK. I have no passport with me, but it could be possible. I suppose I could head to France. God knows how, but I think I will start with a map and compass to get my bearings. I will have to risk being seen tomorrow and pick them up before I leave Winchester. Maybe I could stow away on a ferry, or even steal a boat. I will sleep on it.

  I found it difficult to settle, so I decided to write a poem. I’m not much of a poet. But putting the words together like a jigsaw puzzle has helped.

  Far from me but held close within my soul

  No pictures to calm just memories to hold

  And hold fast to them I do when sleep finally takes

  Upon clouds we meet until daylight awakes

  The cruel words I’ve said and cold thoughts all untrue

  A moment of madness has stripped me from you

  But hope is a card that I wait long to receive

  From a dealer unyielding I can but believe

  That your faces I will see in a day not too far

  Upon ground and not cloud in skies unfilled with stars

  Decisions I’ve made have carried me away

  In a half-life that I live on a path that I’ve laid

  I cannot turn back and I cannot give in

 
To the black I’ve created and this sadness within

  So it’s hope that I cling to that wrongs will be right

  And the aching will stop and my future seem bright

  But for now I must tread ever away from your arms

  Into a future uncertain with my past far behind

  Sunday, March 26th

  I woke up just after 6:00am still very tired and groggy, but at least I was dryer than the following morning. My throat was really sore and I had developed a rather nasty chesty cough with a complimentary runny nose. I ate one of my Mars bars and washed it down with a few healthy swigs of water, packed up and headed off in the direction I figured would lead to the town. The plan was to try and find a shop that would sell a map and compass, maybe a little more food too. I figured it would be best to leave early and scout around while the streets were empty. Then I could lay low and wait until the shops opened to avoid minimum contact with people, buy my map and compass and get the hell out of here (batteries… I must remember batteries for the torch too).

  I had bugger all idea where I was, nothing from last night looked familiar at all. I walked aimlessly for nearly an hour before I saw a sign for the station where I had my luxury spa the previous evening, I thought that would be near the shops at least and so set off in that direction. I walked for 20 minutes and