The news had shaken the town. Who would do such a thing? A whole family, removed from existence…
At least that's what eight year old me thought as I stood behind the yellow tape, the chill of the night coming through my jacket, watching the murder scene. Just an ordinary suburban house. A mother, father, and two boys. All dead. Well, one of the boys had gone missing. I had seen the family a great deal, seeing as I lived just down the street with my own parents. They had seemed so happy. The boys both excitable. They'd both been pretty fit too.
So why were they murdered?
I had always been one for curiosity, and I often let it get the better of me. I wanted to know who the killer was, why they'd done it, why one of the boys (who I unfortunately didn't know by name) had gone missing…had he fled the scene? Been taken captive?
Was he the murderer?
I'd heard stories. One of the boys was apparently sent to Juvenile, the other taken into mental recuperation. But being only eight, I didn't really understand. I knew what mental disorders and stuff were, but could they really drive to kill? I had no idea.
The police were shooing people away, the crowd at the edge of the scene becoming noisy, panicked. I turned and walked quickly home, eyes scanning the houses either side, watching for movement. The chance of one of the boys being the killer never left me.