by Ledger, John
Timothy looked down at his sister and smiled. I could almost see his mind racing as he thought of what he could do. Finally, he would get his revenge on the girl who made his life miserable with her constant taunting, belittling, and practical jokes. As he stared at her, noticing the fear in her eyes, he kind of felt sorry for her, if only for a second. I held my breath as I waited to see what he was going to do.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just staring into her eyes. Finally, he said, “I'm sorry, but if I don't do this, he may kill me, and I don't wanna die.” Faster than I could react, Timothy plunged the knife into his sister's throat. A spray of blood coated his arm and face, and his sister squirmed and thrashed. The more she moved, the faster the blood pumped from her body, and the more enthralled Timothy became with the scene he created. The young girl soon bled out in her own living room. The boy's mother couldn't react; she just sat there, breathing heavily around the duct tape that covered her mouth, crying softly.
Timothy watched the life drain from his sister's face, and with the knife still in hand, turned to look at Wade who was walking over to the boy with his arm outstretched, attempting to relieve him of the burden of the weapon. Although he looked like he enjoyed it at the time, tears rolled down Timothy's face, as the realization of what he had done dawned on him. As I watched his inner struggle unfold, my heart broke for him.
I don't know why I did what I did after that. I guess something snapped inside my head, but before I could stop myself, I screamed and lunged for Wade, throwing punches as fast and as hard as I could. I didn't care about him anymore, nor did I care about what he might do to me. He'd become a monster I no longer knew, and I felt responsible to stop him.
My first punch connected with his chest, and maybe it was because I caught him off-guard, but he stumbled backwards, and I kept hitting him. He recovered quickly and came at me with a backhand that made me see stars and hit the floor hard.
“Emma, what the fuck?”
I couldn't help it and started to cry. “Wade, you killed them. These people and all the rest! There was no need to kill anyone!”
“I did it for you, baby. Haven't I made that obvious? I love you. Everyone will now think twice before leaving you a bad review. You never have to worry about it again. All you have to do is keep writing and you'll really make a name for yourself now. Once this gets out, people will love your books and you can even write about this whole adventure. Think of the money we'll make!”
I was shocked at his statement. I mean, I knew why he was doing this and at first, it was fun, but killing a family in cold blood over a few stupid words left on a website was taking it way too far. I couldn't take anymore. “We'll? There is no we anymore, Wade. I'm done. How can you expect me to be a part of this? You killed a family who probably didn't know this guy even left me a bad review? They didn't do anything wrong. They're innocent!”
As I spoke, I slowly got to my feet and made my way to the coffee table where the gun still sat, seemingly begging me to pick it up. Wade must have followed my gaze because he made for the gun at the same time I did. Fortunately, I was faster.
I aimed the gun at the man I used to love, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Tears sprang to my eyes, and he stared at me before speaking. My vision blurred and I wondered if I had the nerve to pull the trigger.
“Come on, Emma. You don't want to do this. We've been through too much together for you to throw it all way. You love me, right? I killed these people to help you! Please, baby. I love you. Let's go home.”
“Home? We don't have a home anymore, thanks to you! We've got nothing, Wade. The cops will be after us, and we have nowhere to run. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life in prison because of you? I can't believe you talked me into doing all this shit. How could I have been so fucking stupid?”
Wade walked toward me and I didn't think, I just pulled the trigger. I'd never fired a gun before and the way it kicked sent my arm flying backwards, but my first shot hit Wade right in the chest. I shot two more times. One bullet missed him completely and hit the wall behind him, but the other connected with the side of his head, blowing his left ear completely off. I stood watching the dark red patch spread against his white shirt. His head dripped blood. I dropped the gun and started to cry as my boyfriend hit the floor.
Epilogue
Journal entry whatever
My name is Timothy. I am ten-years-old and I am taking over this journal because I killed the woman who used to write in it. After I killed my sister, and after she killed her boyfriend, I stabbed her a whole bunch of times with the knife. She never saw me come up behind her, and I kind of liked how easily the sharp knife went into her skin – at least I did until I accidentally hit the bone in her leg and the knife got stuck. I didn't think I was strong enough to pull it out, but I stepped on her leg and wiggled the blade loose. After stabbing her a lot, she died. There was a lot of blood everywhere, and I used my foot to spread it around. It was kinda fun.
Anyway, my mom was still on the couch watching me, and she held out her hands like she wanted me to cut the tape off, but I stabbed her too. In the face, in the chest, all over. I smiled as I stabbed her, even when her blood got in my mouth. I liked the way she looked when she died. I liked licking her blood off of my teeth. I liked feeling powerful, kind of like a superhero, only evil.
After I killed Mom, I called the cops. While I waited for them to arrive, I practiced crying and got the lies straight in my head. A bunch of cops showed up, and they believed everything I told them. I told them how these people came into my house and killed my entire family, and how I killed the Emma lady because he was gonna shoot me.
Once they were finished with me, they sent me to live with my grandma in Michigan. My grandma smells funny and talks too much and sometimes, early in the morning, I catch her without her teeth. She makes me eat crap like prunes and oatmeal, and she sends me to bed at eight o'clock, like I'm some kind of baby. She buys all my clothes from the thrift store and won't get me a gaming console like I want. I really hate it here, but I was told that I'd rather live with a family member than go to a state home. I guess I'll have to tough it out.
When they sent me here, they let me pack my own stuff and never found this journal, so I decided to keep it for my own. I think writing down this kind of stuff is neat, and sometimes, when the voices in my head get too loud, I can try writing my thoughts here, to shut them up. If they won't stop yelling at me, I'll have no choice but to kill again. I hope I don't have to, but if I do, I'm ready. I know where Grandma keeps the knives.