Alright, so everybody’s all angry at me, like I’m the bad guy. They just keep pointing their fingers, saying I’m the one who killed Dean Adams and Easter Boomings. I don’t know why they feel the need to tell me what I already know is true. That’s right, you caught me- the murderer.

I really don’t get why I just got arrested for this. You see, no one understands my reasoning behind the whole thing.

Let’s start with Easter Boomings…my mother. Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday. You see, my father died of a heart attack when I was seven, and my mom has never been the same since. She began doing drugs- and lots of them. It soon got to the point where she became very violent. I remember leaving my coat on the couch instead of hanging it up like I was supposed to. I got beat with a switch to the point where I was limping. I also got a black eye and a swollen lip for drawing on a wall. And I still have a faint scar on my left foot, from when she burned it as punishment for staying up past bedtime.

I grew to hate that woman with all my heart. For nine years of putting up with Mom, I was devising a way to get back at her. I wanted her to feel all of the pain that I had to go through. At age sixteen, I knew it was time. She fell asleep at her computer desk in the basement- a place where no one could hear her scream. It was about one or two o’ clock in the morning when I snuck down there with some rope and a shovel. It was a very brilliant plan indeed. So here’s what I did; I tied her arms and legs to the chair using the rope, so that she couldn’t move. Then since the basement ground was made entirely out of dirt, it was pretty easy for me to dig a hole big enough to bury her in. After that, I went back over to where Mom was tied up. I slapped her hard on the cheek so that she would awaken. Before a word was able to come out of her mouth, I put my hands around the woman’s neck. Slowly, I tightened my hands, for I wished her a slow, painful death. I remember feeling a strange pinch of delight, as I watched her struggle for air. Finally, I let out a cry of laughter, and choked my mother as hard as I could. And with that, the woman who gave birth to me was dead, right before my eyes.

Once that was over, think I might have backed away for a quick moment, trying to take in the whole scene. But then I went back into action and threw the chair, with Mom’s body still tied up to it, straight into the hole I dug. Using the shovel, I swiftly buried her deep into the ground. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for what I have just done, because I knew I had to get out of there. So I hurried upstairs, and packed everything I needed to make it on my own. I took all of my mom’s money and her car keys, then speed-walked over to the vehicle. Although I didn’t see anyone out there, I still had to be careful- ‘cause if you’re caught running, you automatically look guilty. Anyway, I packed all of my belongings off into the trunk and headed off. I went very far from that place- far enough so that no one would suspect that I was the one who killed Easter Boomings.

Clever, wasn’t it? Now on to Dean Adams.

So decided to settle in this neighborhood called Deverhill. I got myself a nice little apartment and stayed there for two years. I also got a job at a fast food restaurant and worked my way up to manager. This is what made be able to afford a better house.

I remember meeting Dean Adams the first day I moved into my new home. He was my next-door neighbor, and a very friendly one at that.

But there was also another next-door neighbor who lived on the other side of my house. Her name was Hazel Glare- the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She was an exotic redhead with dark skin, striking hazel eyes, and a gorgeous smile. We would have interesting conversations with each other and liked to invite each other over for lunch sometimes. It wasn’t long before we began going out on dates. I fell deeply in love with Hazel, for I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every day and every night, Hazel was the primary thing that came to mind.

It would be no surprise then, that sometimes I got very jealous of her talking to other guys. Whenever I saw her speaking to another man, I’d get angry and would pull her over. Hazel kept saying that I was being too protective, and that I needed to trust her. But she didn’t understand how much I loved her, and that I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with someone other than me. But these conflicts were usually settled with a kiss. Then everything would go right back to normal with us.

Well, that was until one day, when she took it too far. I try so hard to forget that day- the day when I lost the girl of my dreams.

I was walking home from work when I saw Dean Adams talking to my Hazel. They were smiling and giggling with each other. And once I was already mad enough, they had the nerve to pull out their cell phones. There was no doubt that they were exchanging numbers. I stormed up to her, enraged that someone like Dean would do such a thing. As usual, I pulled Hazel aside to talk to her. But this time I was even angrier, because she gave him her phone number. I can still hear her voice explaining the whole situation. “Tim, that guy was an old friend of mine. We were just talking because we haven’t seen each other in so long. You believe me, right?”

Looking back on the memory, it did seem believable, but at the moment I wasn’t thinking straight. So I slapped her so hard, it left a mark on her cheek. Right then, I came back to my senses. I began telling her how sorry I was and that I would never do it again. But it was too late. She began crying, and started pushing me away, telling me to stay away from her. So I ran to my house, knowing she’d never forgive me. By the next day, Hazel had already moved on- with Dean. I’d see them walking past my house holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.

So at this point I hated Dean, for stealing my girlfriend. I loved Hazel more than he ever would. Every time I saw them together, I kept thinking, “I need to get rid of him, so that Hazel will love me again.” It convinced me to come up with a plan to get rid of Dean Adams.

Unfortunately, I didn’t really think this one through very well. You see, I decided to break into his house while the sun was still out, ‘cause there was a block party going on at that time. I figured no one would notice, but it turns out, someone did- and they called the police. I had just shot Dean in the heart while he was asleep on his living room couch. When I heard the sirens, I looked around for an escape, too shocked at what I’d done to run. The police came in and handcuffed me before I was able to snap back into action. I feel like such an idiot, for not running when I had the chance, and because it was all for nothing. Now Hazel hates me even more because I killed Dean. I’m sure she sees me as a heartless criminal who kills people for no reason. That’s how everybody sees me now.

When I told the officers my name, they grew suspious. They demanded a sample of my finger print, and found out that I also killed Easter Boomings. Apparently, my finger prints were on the shovel I used to bury her.

So here I am, in this place they call prison, lying on a mattress harder than cement. I’m sure I’ve been featured on the news, as some horrible person who killed his mom, and his friend. I heard they’ve been calling me a time bomb lately- one who goes through a series of pain and misery until one day he explodes, and kills somebody. I think that describes me perfectly. In fact, I am in the middle of plotting on how to kill my next victim. You see, there’s a man who I really wish to kill next. This man stares back at me whenever I look into the mirror, and goes by the name… Tim Boomings.