1 out of 20
By: Wajiha
Tags: Serial Killers, Family, Short Story, Murder

1 out of 20

Today any question you ask could be answered by some sort of fact or statistic. For example, did you know that one-third of murder cases in America go unsolved. Also, that 1 out of 20 people are diagnosed sociopaths. Followed with 1 out of 15 become serial killers, and in the span of one lifetime you’ll walk past at least 16 murderers. Those are just some that I keep at the top of my head. Oddly enough those are the ones that I think about the most. Yet, how could you not. You have possibly passed at least a million strangers in your lifetime, you’ve gone to school with thousands, and if you’re in my case you might live in a household with over twenty people. It might be one of them. These thoughts slip in my mind from time to time. Could it be true that I live with a psychopath? Could I be a psychopath? Yeah, no probably not, I am just overthinking… right.

I guess you could call me a normal teenager. I do all the things normal teenagers do. I go to school, gush over celebrity males, read true crime before researching everything there is to know on killing, and maybe go to the mall with some of my friends. That probably sounds bad, but we all have those tendencies. Just wanting to go pick a few things up from the mall with your gals. You know what I mean. I want to look presentable when I get to school. Its not easy when you live in a small town with only one High School. Everyone knows everyone and your reputation sticks with you throughout life.

Waking up for school the first Monday of August was the last Monday I can remember clearly. I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I was scrunching up my short curly hair. Making sure every textured piece was in the right shape and placed in the right area. I can hear my Aunt Laura calling, “Miss fancy Nancy get downstairs before you are late.” I hate it when they call me ‘fancy Nancy’, Nancy is just fine, and I tell her that every time. Sometimes I let it pass because its Laura. She was there for me and my two siblings, James and Ally, when my mom left. Practically an older sister maybe a mother figure. Its like she has her whole life together. Laura and her girlfriend Carrie. Those two are people I will always look up to. I was walking down the stairs trying to adjust my ears to one conversation, rather than hearing my whole house screaming the morning off. That’s the moment I heard it. My dad reading the newspaper headline “FOUR FEMALE GIRLS MISSING IN LITTLE LAKE OREGON”. Grandma Debra went crazy “Oh my, oh my! I always tell these girls never to go out alone at night. People are crazy.” My dad interrupted by saying “It says right here that they were actually abducted from their homes.” The entire house went hysterical, which was my cue to leave.

On my way to school that day I kept replaying what happened in the house in my brain. If these girls are getting abducted from their homes, that could mean we have a serious problem on our hands. Did you know that only .9% of abductions happen during a home invasion? Could it be that easy getting into someone’s home. Well I suppose it could be that easy. If anyone has watched as much crime shows as I have, they’d know how, but that is most likely impossible. Me and my aunt Katie made it our religion to watch crime shows. Ever since she married my uncle Benson. The two of us haven’t went a day without us discussing true crime. She takes it a bit more serious than I do though. She likes to study every single movement of the killers, then goes over how dumb they are for making that mistake. Its kind of weird, but what could I say its Aunt Katie. She’s as weird as it gets. I was turning in the corner to take my usual short cut through the park and that’s when I saw it. A dead body.

A ran up to examine the body and there she was. One of the four girl who went missing. I looked around see if anyone was near or could’ve saw something. The body didn’t scare me as much as it should’ve. I mean it isn’t the first time I have seen a dead body. The first time was a couple years ago. My uncle Ezra and I were hiking up a small hill. I stopped to tie my shoe near a bush and there he was. Mr. Daniel Scott, poor man was killed by his best friend . Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him. I heard voices coming nearer. I quickly took photos of the crime scene, then rushed to call the police. I waited with the rest of the community as the police arrived. They had everyone clear the scene, but me.

Sitting down while waiting for an officer to interview me I began to think. What if the killer was here, trying to relive the moment. Oh my God! What if they think I am the killer? This isn’t good. I need to be very detailed in my interview so I could seem as innocent as possible. Oh no! That’s something only a guilty person would say. I was getting prepared to run for it, that’s when I heard them. All nineteen members of my family running into the park. Then at that moment I could feel a weight lift from my chest. Everyone rushed in to save me. I hear Grandpa Ryan yelling in the back, “I swear if you guys touched her.”

A couple weeks went by and two more bodies were discovered. Every time I got news of a new discovery; I rush to the crime scene to take note. I am invested in these murders. As in what was the motive, a signature, or even a profile on the unsub. A felt a weird connection to the three girls like I have seen them before. Spoke with them, maybe even connected. I can’t figure out why. One night all the adults left the house. Which includes Grandpa Ryan and Grandma Debra, my dad and stepmom, and every single one of my aunts and uncles. It was just me and my cousins. Usually when we get free time like this we sit in a circle and gossip about the adult in our house. First person to speak it always Oscar and Maddie. That’s Laura and Carries kids. Oscar begins “I find it weird that Uncle Ezra and Aunt Sampson always hide in their bedroom and quarrel.” Maddie continues “I hear my mom say its because they weren’t meant to be and the only reason, they are together is because of Ryan.” Ryan was much older than all of us and is always in and out of the house. He likes to say he is too old for us. Quinton and Pierce begin to fight over who gets to share their gossip. Those two are the youngest in the family. Both are twins and belong to my stepmom, Gianna. We never let them in on the circle, but they promised some good information. James intervenes and says, “Come on spit it out!” Quinton clears his throat, “Auntie Katie goes to the garage for hours at a time, then comes out looking very happy. Its-”. “-weird. Like what is she doing down there.” Pierce interrupts. Thinking to myself that is weird. The only time anyone goes to the basement is for hunting season. I want to question them further, but my younger sister Ally wants to share. “I think it’s weird that Uncle Ezra leaves in the truck, then always comes home and cleans it.” Inanna explains to the younger ones that it is common for people to do that here for the weather. Inanna is cool she is about my age and has lots of patience for the people in this house. Including the fact that she is right, Little Lake has the worse weather. Its nice and sunny one day, then its rains for the next week. The Oregon newspaper calls it the perfect weather for murder.

That night I decided to go to bed a little earlier then everyone else. I cannot forget about what they had said about Aunt Katie. What was she doing down there and why did she look so noticeably happy coming back up? Is she our serial killer… Aunt Katie? Impossible, like yeah, we have discussed many times on how we would kill someone if we wanted to. Mine was always a little gorier than hers. Also, the weather has been perfect this past month. Why does Uncle Ezra have to constantly clean his trucks? These thoughts and ideas kept turning in my head through the night. When I heard the rest of the kids coming up the stair to get to bed. I quickly shut my eyes and was fast asleep.

That night was the night. I had the strangest dream. It was me in the basement. There was blood everywhere. It was on the walls, the fold out table, my clothes, and even my hands. I began to look around in disbelief. Out of the corner of my eye I see her the fourth victim. She wasn’t dead… yet. I could feel someone else in the room. I turn my head to look, but I am quickly awoken by a crash.

The loud noise sounded like it came from beneath me. What is beneath me, it’s the garage. I quickly look outside to account for some sort of time. I see everyone’s cars and trucks parked out back. Except for uncle Ezra’s. I quietly leave my room and watch out for everywhere I step. I look at each closed door. The only one creaked open was Uncle Benson and Aunt Katies. I continue forward. I look towards the front door to check if all twenty shoes are lined up like they always are every night. There are only nineteen, Aunt Laura’s. I hear another crash. It came from the basement door. I slowly crept up and that went I saw the traces of blood on the door handle. Exactly like my dream.

At that moment I did what every rational person would do and opened the door. There was blood everywhere. I could see a bloody handprint; it was someone fighting for their life. I continue down the stairs. All of this is coming back to me, it’s exactly like my dream. I turn my head to see the girl, Jennet Sanders our fourth victim. She was barely alive. I run to try and help her, but it feels like no point. I try and try then immediately I halt to a stop. There is shuffling behind me, I slowly turn my head. My eyes widen in disbelief and I whisper “How?”