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Elizabeth Tyler

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There used to be a girl on my block. Her name was Elizabeth. She was quite beautiful, she really was. Whenever I seldom saw her face, my heart would beat rapidly and I’d want to run up to her to ask her on a date.

However, I didn’t get to see her very often due to the fact that—well, no one really knows. You see, Elizabeth Tyler moved into the apartment next door with her parents; her mother was a short stocky woman, and her father was a big, heavy man. Most of the children avoided Elizabeth because they feared her parents, but I wasn’t going to let anything get between Elizabeth and I.

I would wait at school, every day, for her to come strolling down the sidewalk with her lunch bag in hand. I would envision myself running up to greet her every time, but I never had the courage. There will be time, I would tell myself, I’ll get the chance to speak to her, after all, we’re only 12. It wasn’t like time was flying by.

I eventually mustered up the courage to approach her on the playground. She was sitting all alone on a swing, gently swinging to and fro. Her head was down, her blonde locks covering her eyes, and she had a sad expression on her face. Whenever I saw her, she had on this sad expression, which made me sad as well. Whenever I got the chance to look at her unsuspectingly, she had fear in her eyes, like she was afraid of something.

I was about to approach but then I remembered something, the night before, I had heard loud noises coming from her unit. There was yelling from her parents, throwing, screaming, and crying. I remember hearing Elizabeth cry all through the night and feeling tears form in my eyes. I remember feeling such anger toward Elizabeth’s parents for hurting her, and for leaving that red bruise on her forehead, which she covered with bangs. But I noticed, and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

An idea struck me: That night, I would kill her evil parents so they couldn’t hurt her anymore. A smile spread across my face as I thought of this—

“Johnny?” the small, feminine voice belonged to Elizabeth.

I found myself standing in front of her on the swing set. She looked up at me with wide eyes. “Johnny? Are you okay?” Elizabeth asked timidly.

I nodded, my smile growing. “Of course I’m okay Elizabeth. I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I’m just a little tired.”

“Does school make you tired?”

“No, home makes me tired. I love being at school, it’s the best place to be. Everything is safe here. Do you know what I mean?”

Even though I didn’t, I nodded excitedly and flashed her a smile.

“I know, Elizabeth. I know.”

That night, as my parents slept, I snuck into the kitchen to grab a knife. I took the sharpest I could find, and made my to Elizabeth’s front door. My heart beat double time and I could feel my hands shaking. I crept through the door with a bobby pin as a key and hid behind a couch. I listened for anything, but heard nothing. With everything clear, I stood up and searched for Elizabeth’s parents’ room. Finally, I found it, along the far left corridor.

It was dark inside, but I could make out two figures lying in a bed, fast asleep. A smile crept on my face, and I approached the bed carefully. I raised my knife, with thoughts of Elizabeth’s thank-you-s rushing through my head, and rammed the knife into Mr. Tyler. Next was Ms. Tyler, and her skin was especially thick, and her blood was a dark red that splattered over the wall.

I looked up to Elizabeth, with a horrified expression on her face, gazing at me through the door way.

“How—how could you do this, Johnny?”

I smiled brightly. “I did it for you, Elizabeth. I killed them for your safety.”

“My safety? What are you talking about?”

“They were hurting you. I heard them through the wall the other day, I heard screaming and crying. You were crying Elizabeth.”

“I wasn’t crying, Johnny, you were! Ever since our family came here, your family has done nothing but fight. My mother and father even considered calling the police one night. All you do is cry all night, and I can’t sleep all night because of the sound; that’s why I’ve been so tired!”

I looked up at her in amazement. What was she talking about? “No—no, you’re not serious.”

“I am, Johnny. And now, you’ve killed my parents!” She fell to the ground, bawling.

I shook my head over and over again. “No—it can’t be—”

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back into my mind and I looked down to see my bloodstained shirt and sharp knife in my hand, and I knew what I had to do. I looked up, and approached Elizabeth’s crying body on the floor slowly.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry I have to do this. I will always love you,” I said. All I saw before I rammed the knife in her skull were her soft, watery eyes, pleading with me.

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