The New Kid
I had been living in this neighborhood for nine years. I knew every single family on the block. Recently, one of the older men on the block passed. Within three months, a new family had moved in. They seemed nice. They were the typical American family. There was a mom, a dad, a daughter, a son, and a dog. We gave them a week to get settled and then we went over to meet them. They were some of the most polite people on the block. They invited us into their house as soon as we got there.
They had a very nice style to their house. It looked almost like a Victorian style house. We took another few steps in and the dog ran over to greet us. He was a big yellow lab. He jumped all over us and got his slobber all over us. We didn’t mind, however. We liked dogs. First the mother introduced herself. She was a businesswoman who worked in New York. We then met the father. He was a game designer who worked in Hartford. After that, the daughter came in. She was cute, my age, and had a great personality. Everything was fine, and then we met the son.
He walked in very slowly. His hands were folded at his groin. His hair was long and over his eyes. He was probably about fourteen. He looked up, waved subtly, and walked away. His parents told us a couple of stories about him. There was one in particular that kind of freaked me out. They said on his old street, he had this friend. It was his best friend. They said that one day, while they were together, his friend was hit by a train. The weirdest thing was that she said that they never hung out near the tracks. Even they were scared. The death looked like an accident, but nothing else fit. Even the family suspected a murder, but there was not enough evidence.
After meeting that family, I was definitely creeped out. I went on my computer and did a whole lot of research on the two kids, the neighborhood, and everything else in the section. I learned a lot of things that scared me even further. The boy’s friend wasn’t the only death in that area. The area had many deaths within the time period that they lived in the neighborhood. The bodies were found in lakes, on the tracks, and even in their own houses. I started getting scared and suspicious. They all happened after the death of the little boy. The deaths all looked like bad accidents. I didn’t believe it though. I had a feeling the boy had something to do with it.
The next day I went to the family’s house to talk to them. They welcomed me in and asked what my visit was all about. I was scared to tell them. I said, “It involves your son.” They actually seemed quite open to the topic, they asked what I have to say about him. I told them about my research. I told them about how I worried. They didn’t call me crazy or anything. They went along with it. It was almost like they had the same suspicion. We eventually agreed to go get the son and question him. We entered his room, but he was gone and the window was open.
We called the cops and told them that a suspected murderer was on the loose. They asked how old he looked and they laughed. They asked further details about the boy so we told them. They immediately stopped laughing and said the words, “We’ll get right on it”. Now I even think that the cops suspected the boy. The mother said she was going to go look for him. I offered to tag along, but she firmly said no. That had to be the last words she spoke. She promised to keep in touch. She called once every five minutes. After twenty minutes she stopped calling. I got scared.
I went to go look. What I found was terrifying. The car that the mother was driving was crashed into a lake. I went to see the part that was sticking out. I noticed the dead mother in the back seat. It looked as if the crash darted her backwards. There was something keyed into the trunk’s door. It said, “Stop searching”. I almost did when I saw that. However, something told me to continue. I remembered the locations of the victims. “Lake, tracks, and house”. I decided to check out the tracks next. There I saw a cop car crushed next to the train tracks. Both cops were obviously dead. Another message: “The further you come, the higher the victim count”. That’s where I stopped searching.
I went back to the house to tell the family the bad news. They were devastated about their mother/spouse. They were also devastated, but not surprised, about the child being a serial killer. They knew he killed those people, but didn’t have the heart to convict him. Even if he was a serial killer, he was still their son. They also said that I was the push to finally try and convict him. I couldn’t help but feel the more recent deaths were my fault.
My Continued Worries
He is still on the loose. He still runs around my city. The victim count still continues to rise. I stopped searching, but others didn’t. Every week there is another victim. I still can’t shake it. It’s still, in my mind, my fault. I will find, and kill him one day.