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Have you ever heard of Elizabeth? She's not very well known.
But she is as dangerous as any other killer.
The following is a compilation of information taken from Elizabeth's diary:
My family never really loved each other like I wished they would. It's a strange sentence to hear from an 8th grader.
Let me tell you about myself.
I am Elizabeth Lucy Reid. And I live with my extended family on my father's side. He has two sisters and two brothers. He is the second youngest of five children. My grandpa was killed by disease. My grandma has a heart condition.
I have five cousins and a younger brother. We all live in one big house.
My father and his siblings fight every night. They yell curse words and scream threats and insults. I even heard a knife drop to the floor one night.
They fight when they think we're all asleep.
When I was four years old, I first asked about the fights. My father said it was a television show. I believed him until I was six...
But I didn't completely believe him... I think now I was only convincing myself that what was true was false, and vice versa.
Well... eight years later here I am. My innocence almost completely gone. My mother and my aunts-and-uncles-by-marriage like to pretend that what happens doesn't. My younger cousin (who is eight) doesn't even believe them. I wish they'd stop trying to fool us. We aren't stupid.
I'm reaching the end of my rope with them. I go to my grandma for guidance, and she helps console me and tide me over for one more day...
But I don't think that will work much longer.
I'm sick of the screams and fights. I'm sick of the other adults pretending whats happening is not.
There is more to this then the fights. Call me crazy, but I swear I've seen traces of white powder on dollar bills and other pieces of paper money. I think my family is using cocaine. That would reveal why we're not exactly middle-class. It makes them mad. It makes them crazy. They can be known to... Take out anger on me or my cousins or my brother. Or their spouses.
I'm sick of not wanting to go to my own home.
I'm sick of the fear that they'll get mad at me in my sleep.
Most of all... I'm sick of them lying to my face.
So I'm devising a plan to shut them all up.
First, I talk to my youngest aunt. She is the youngest of the three siblings, not to mention, the only girl.
"Aunt Nancy? Can I speak to you in private?" I ask her. She has long brown hair up in a bun most of the time, and sharp grey eyes.
"Sure, Lizzie-boo." She calls me by my pet name.
I have an old syringe hidden under my sweater. My grandparents were both surgeons. I've also nicked an old anesthetic bottle that has long since fermented into poison.
I gesture for my aunt to sit down. We're in the dining room.
That's where all of the fights usually occur.
"I can hear you all at night. Yelling at each other..." she's cringing.
"Elizabeth..." she begins but never finishes. I stab her shoulder with the metal-and-glass syringe. She dies with her eyes open.
I love the feeling that killing her has brought. I do the same to each of my father's siblings, refilling the syringe over and over.
Finally, I kill my father.
He looks like me, with red hair and brown eyes.
"Dad... I've had enough of the fights." I croon in a sickly-sweet voice. He gives a slight jump.
"E-Elizabeth?" he stammers. I can feel the hatred burning in me.
I kill him, and drag his body over to where his siblings are. They all sit at the table, eyes wide.
As if they have just finished a family meal.
I can't stop there. I rush to my brother's room. He and my mother are reading a book together. I sneak up behind them and poison them. The feeling is so good, it's like a drug. Like I'm finally getting revenge. I watch their bodies fall lifelessly. I put them back in their original position of reading together.
I walk across the hall to my youngest cousin's room. She's drawing at her desk.
I'm as quiet as a cat as a sneak over and plunge the syringe into her shoulder. She gasps and flops onto her desk. I right her body and continue on. All three of my oldest cousins are in the same room, talking and laughing. The first to go is Lucas, the youngest of that three at age 26. Next is Bailey, who is 27. Finally, Mike at age 29.
They all fall to the floor. I sit them back up in their chairs and walk up another flight of stairs onto the third level of the house.
Grandma had been my soul companion when I was upset. The others didn't understand. She had listened, she had been patient...
Something tells me I'll regret it someday. I doubt it.
She was sleeping in a chair.
I'm glad she died so peacefully.
I broke the skin with my bloody, poisoned needle and deployed the plunger one last time. She gasped in her sleep, and gently fell forward. I sat her back up in the chair, and kissed her forehead.
I went back into the dining room, to my aunts and uncles.
I took a lighter and burned onto the wall and into their stomachs:
"I DESERVED THIS"
Policeman's Log Found After Death
The mysterious death of NYPD officer Janice Heuwer is somewhat explained in the late officer's log.
Monday, December 17, 2012-
Last night, I was woken up at 3:00-3:30 AM. We had received a call that someone had broken into an apartment on the lower-east side. No physical description available. We drove to the apartment as quickly as we could, and ended up getting there in under ten minutes. A window was open on the 9th floor. After entering the apartment, we were quickly and quietly directed to a bedroom. Apparently it was the son's room. We walked in, and were greeted by a disturbing sight. There was a girl, leaning over the boy's nearly-dead body. We shouted, she looked up. And for maybe twenty seconds we stared at her, our guns locked on her. She jumped out the window. I had heard my partner mutter-
"That damn Elizabeth."
I had heard of Elizabeth. Her killings weren't nearly as famous as some others, because she was rarely seen and had never been caught. But I knew she had absolutely NO killing pattern. I also knew her style. I small pinprick on the skin (usually on the jugular) that, when the autopsy had been complete, was the injection sight of a deadly toxin.
I had also seen pictures of her. Apparently a girl (12–16 years of age) with curly red hair (it was said shoulder length) and pale skin. She apparently wore a black t-shirt; black jeans; black, lace-up leather boots; and black wrist-height leather gloves. I had assumed that the black was to hide most bloodstains.
But this girl... Well she did have red hair and pale skin. She did wear exactly as they had said. Her hair was down to her hips (and surprisingly neat-looking) and she had dark, inky shadows under her eyes. She looked as though she hadn't eaten in days. She was holding an old-looking syringe.
I received word that most who have seen Elizabeth don't live very long. I wonder how long I have...
As it turned out, she had until the very week after this log was written. She was found with multiple toxins in her body, and the words "I DESERVED THIS" burned into her stomach. Her funeral is scheduled to be buried at National Veterens' Cemetery, her military service making her eligible.
Unnatural Note Sent to Police
Police have received a strange note from (what appears to be) the serial killer, Elizabeth-
To whom it may concern:
I have noticed that apparently, the NYPD knows about me. I'm surprised. I would have suspected something like a small town secret. I'm honored.
You may have noticed this letter came with a small package. It's not a bomb, but something much more important to me. If you open it, you'll understand.
Please know that, even though you know that it's ME that is doing this, I don't intend to stop.
If you take this as a joke, you are a fucking moron. There is LOADS of shit to be discovered by just examining this letter.
The package held a bloody, punctured eyeball, along with a note that confirmed that it was Elizabeth's. She had apparently taken out her own eyes and kept only one.
If you see anyone that fits the following description, please contact your local police station IMMEDIATELY.
Roughly 5 ft 3-6 in tall
Red hair falling around the hips
Dressed in black
The next person to see Elizabeth would be a young boy named Benjamin Kaelyss. Benjamin was five years old. Elizabeth befriended him. He tried to tell his parents about the "older girl with bloody black eyes" but they thought he was playing with an imaginary friend. They would have never dreamed that their little boy and only child was playing with the killer that was scaring them shitless.
"Lissabet?" Benjamin had called into the woods.
"Hello, Benny!" A girl with long, braided red hair and (what appeared to be) empty eye sockets walked out from behind a tree. Her hands were seemingly clasped behind her back.
"My mommy says she doesn't want me to play anymore." Benny pouted.
"Well... We'll just have to make the best of it! Now come here! I have a game I want to play!" Elizabeth smiled.
"Okay!" Benny said, excitedly.
"C'mon, follow me. We can't play it here." Elizabeth said, beckoning to the child. He followed her, interested. Elizabeth moved her hands so that he couldn't see what she was holding. Benny simply guessed it was for the game they were about to play.
After ten minutes of walking, Elizabeth stopped, and motioned for Benny to sit down on a nearby rock. He complied. Elizabeth moved behind him.
"Okay, this is a game called 'I'. You close your eyes, and when you feel something, you say 'I!'. And you don't open your eyes until I say so. If you keep your eyes closed the entire time, without making a sound (except of the 'I!', of course) you win. Sound like fun?" Elizabeth explained.
Benny nodded, and closed his eyes.
"One... Two... Three!" Elizabeth cheered, quietly. She moved her hands to reveal her syringe had been hidden in her hands the entire time. Benny couldn't see it, but he felt it when she carefully inserted it into his neck.
"I!" Billy called.
He followed her instructions perfectly. He never made a sound after the shout. He kept his eyes closed.
Elizabeth slowly injected a deadly cocktail of God-knows-what into the poor boy. He gave a shuddering sigh, and flopped forward onto his face. He wasn't breathing. He had no pulse.
"You win!" Elizabeth smirked. She picked up the boy's corpse, and retraced her steps to the boy's house. She laid him on the doorstep, and climbed onto the roof of the porch. She threw the nearest loose object at the door.
Benny's mother opened the door, to find her little boy laying there, dead as dirt. She screamed.
Elizabeth flipped forward and Benny's mother could see her face. Exactly as Benny had described his new friend.
Red hair, bloody black eyes (or lack thereof)... She now realized it was Elizabeth. The one she had been hearing about in the news.
Elizabeth's mouth formed a sick, twisted smile.
"What can I say? He won our little game." Elizabeth whispered. Just as Benny's father (who had heard the scream and gotten a rifle) appeared, Elizabeth sprinted away to the forest, giggling madly.
"M-my little b-boy!" Benny's mother sobbed.
Benny's father chased after the boy's killer, firing shots whenever he heard something.
All he got was a deer and wounded a bear.
Elizabeth was gone again.
She'll come back to anyone that deserves it.