Later that night he killed Greg.

But let's hear the whole story.

After Jude got home, he had a nap on the couch. When he woke up, it was 11:00 p.m.

And he was going in for the kill.

He left the house with a ski mask and a butcher knife that was nearly a foot long and was so sharp that it could cut through a thick steak in 3 seconds.

Left turn onto James Street, right onto Mohawk Road, down Wentworth Avenue, and left onto Cardinal Court.

And Greg's house was lucky number 13.

Jude craved the taste of blood.

The front window was unlatched. Jude snuck in and went to find the sleeping Greg. And he found him.

Jude slit his throat.

Quick and painless.

And then he trew the corpse out the window, and dragged him to the baseball field. He then buried him under second base.

That's for stealing my girl, Jude thought.

He spat on second base and left.

He had no business here.

Half-way home, he thought to himself, What have I done?

Jude then realized that this would cause his beloved Jen pain.

And now, there was nothing he could do about it.

And it was then that he saw Jen, in the sky, crying at a funeral.

Then Jude woke up from his dream. He looked at the clock. It was 11:00 p.m.

Greg wasn't dead. And he wouldn't be.