Diary of a Teenage Murderer

by Emlyn Hall

into the corner of my right eye. His bony fingers wrapped themselves around the back of my head and he began to push.

  Again I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I tried to move my arms, but I couldn’t.

  My eye gave in to the pressure and yielded to his thumb. But his thumb carried on going. I was blind. His thumb reached the back of my eye socket.

  He pulled the blade from my face. I took a deep breath and held it. I felt his knife crash down on the top of my head and I awoke.

  A pretty mad dream, and I remember it vividly. I would like to have that one analysed. I know that the jumping must be significant, probably something to do with freedom, with me having more than everyone else. Losing my loved ones so viciously must surely be a reflection of what I’m experiencing. The rest is just a bit too mad.

  I ventured out of the tent and the area was just woodland, with as far as I could make out no people or houses around for miles, a really great spot. I decided that I would stay put and rest for the day, after all I really hadn’t slept well at all, still felt ill and that dream had really unsettled me.

  I spent the day thinking, reflecting and planning.

  I have decided that the journey to France is not only doable but the best way forward for me. I cannot go on living like this. I will quickly run out of money, be seen or end up so ill that I will need to see a doctor or go to a hospital. In France I figure I can walk around pretty openly and maybe even work to earn a few quid if need be. If I stay the only real option for getting more money in the long term would be to turn to crime, I have already stolen a map and murdered someone, I’d like to think that was enough crime for one lifetime… well, maybe one more.

  I have decided that I am going to head to Southampton and scout out a boat at one of the marinas that I hope to find there (having never been to Southampton, I have no idea what is or isn’t there!). I don’t know an awful lot about boats, but the plan is to steal one at night and make the crossing to France. I have to be sure to select a tidy but not too expensive boat that hopefully won’t be overly complicated and not too sorely missed.

  I drew a line between Southampton and France on my map and roughly calculated that the distance I would need to travel is 109 miles (which doesn’t seem too far, I was expecting that it would be more). I have no idea how fast boats go, but if I assume they go at about 30mph (I’m sure I should be writing that in knots, but have no idea how to convert it!). Travelling at that speed I have approximated that the journey should take me about three and a half to four hours. There are obviously factors that need to be taken into consideration here: wind, currents, having enough fuel to make the crossing and what do I do if the worst comes to the worst and I miss/can’t find France? I definitely need to buy a book about boats! A dummies guide is probably my best bet or maybe visit a library.

  I finally plucked up the courage to read the newspaper, it sent a chill down my spine as I read it. I have tried my hardest to push the whole event in the lane out of my mind and reading the story brought it all flooding back. I turned to page six. The faces of Todd and myself were staring straight back at me.

  The story read:

  A 16-year-old-boy was found stabbed to death in an alleyway in Worthing on the evening of Tuesday 21st March. The boy’s blood-soaked body was discovered by police who were alerted to the scene by his distressed friend. It is the latest in a long line of tragic stabbings along the south coast involving teenagers and this epidemic of violence is all too often related to gang disputes and drug dealing.

  The victim has been named as Todd Phillips of Worthing (pictured above). He sustained a fatal stab wound to the neck, which punctured several major blood vessels which caused him to bleed to death. A friend of the deceased said of him, “He was a popular lad in the area and will be sorely missed, I have no idea why someone would want to do something like this, it’s unbelievable.”

  The police are keen to talk to Matthew Patterson (16) of Worthing (pictured left) who has gone missing since the incident. Anybody with any information as to his whereabouts should contact Worthing police station on 01903 822 622.

  This really is typical, I am now certain I have made the right decision, there is no way I would have come out of this in any way other than as a murderer. The press have made Todd out as the victim and me as a cold blooded gang killer on the run; god knows what my parents and Sasha must be thinking about me, surely they can’t believe the story? They know me far too well. I have decided that when (or if) I get to France I will try and get a message home, how I have no idea at the moment but I feel I need to let everyone know that I am OK and it will at least allow me to explain my side of the story.

  I spend the rest of the day chillin’. Crosswords and Sudoku’s from the ‘newspaper’ with a leaky old pen I found in the side pocket of the rucksack have been a welcome distraction since reading the article. I played the console for a bit too, but the battery is getting a little on the low side now.

  I have the adapter with me, but you don’t get many power points in the countryside!

  Tuesday, March 28th

  I managed to sleep pretty well last night, a day of not walking and relaxing has really recharged my batteries and I have made some really good progress today. The weather has started to feel a lot more like spring too which has also helped. The nights really have been painfully cold at times.

  I left the vicinity of Chandlers Ford very early and crossed over the M3 before the morning commute started. I followed the motorway south until it met the M27 and tracked that east for a mile or so before sitting up on the bank of the motorway (out of view) until darkness fell to ensure I crossed it unseen. I have never crossed a motorway before, I suppose not many people actually have, so two in one day is quite impressive.

  I set up camp in a small woods just north of Bassett Green Road, very quiet and peaceful, full of trees and bushes in full bloom. The smell of new spring flowers and freshly cut grass was amazing and took me right back to sitting in my back garden playing swing ball with my little brother. It was definitely the nicest place I have pitched my tent to date.

  This stolen maps and shitty little kids compass are proving priceless. I know where I am, I know where I’m heading and I know where to avoid.

  Considering I must have walked about seven or eight miles today, it’s mad to think that I did not come across one single person (other than those in cars). I am hoping that I will make it to Southampton tomorrow. There will undoubtedly be a lot of people between here and there and a very real chance someone could recognise me from the recent picture in the paper, there may even have been a feature on the local news too. The plan for tomorrow is to head for a park just north of Woolston railway station. The map suggests that it is not very built up in that area. I am hoping that there will be somewhere nearby where I can crash down undetected for a night or two.

  Tomorrow is going to a very big day.

  My stomach is cartwheeling at the moment. I am unsure whether it is just nerves ahead of tomorrow or whether it is related to my recent piss poor diet. Whichever way you look at it I definitely need more toilet roll! Dear diary, out of courtesy I will spare you the details of my ‘shitting arrangements’, let’s just say it’s disgusting and involves a complex combination of squatting, leaning and patience.

  Wednesday, March 29th

  I bottled it today and did not get as far as I feel I should have, I left the safely of the woods just after 6:30am and walked out onto Bassett Green Road feeling pretty confident about the day. After about an hour of walking south the little surrounding suburbs of Southampton started to come alive with people on their way to work. No matter how you look at it, a teenage lad walking around a sleepy residential area with a huge rucksack and a carrier bag is out of place and draws attention. Maybe I am overreacting, but I am sure people were staring and doing ‘double takes’ to check what they had just seen. I started feeling less and less comfortable and just wanted to get out of view.

  I altered my route slightly and c
rossed a river and entered Riverside Park. The park follows the river (obviously) south and I hugged the water to try and stay out of view of dog walkers and joggers. I reached the south most point of the park by 10am, back-tracked into some dense bushes, found a small gap and climbed into my sleeping bag and laid low.

  I spent an hour and a half playing Vista until the batteries ran out and then had a nap.

  I have decided to try and find a locker to leave my rucksack in, if I am going to be able to move around freely without having panic attacks I am going to have to blend in a lot more, today really shook me up and I am still not convinced that I have actually gotten away with it either, a lot of people saw me.

  Hopefully there will be some lockers at Woolston railway station; I will have to get up really early tomorrow to make the journey a little less stressful.

  I have just been woken up (it’s just gone 4:00am) because a fucking fox was pissing on my sleeping bag, it fucking stinks.

  This is the first and last time I sleep rough!

  Thursday, March 30th

  I walked out of Riverside Park at 5:16 stinking of fox piss. If I wasn’t conspicuous before, well I certainly am now! Now you can smell me downwind from about two kilometres away. Brilliant.

  I reached the train station just