In My Mind: Memoirs of a Killer

Prologue

    I run around the corner of my mother's white house, hiding from my twin sister Amy's strange concept of "Hide and Tag". Whoever hides must run once they're found, otherwise they get tagged by the seeker and it is their turn to seek. The in-between from being found and becoming the seeker almost always seems endless. As if we spend the entirety of the fifteen minutes running and chasing. Unfortunately I wasn't the only dimwitted seven year old that was pulled into my sister's games. Susan, Sally, and George Ames were always so excited to play. The three were siblings, our neighbors from the next door to the left that never seemed to want to go home. Their mother was addicted to every drug in the book, and seems to be constantly pregnant, even now with their fifth. Their father was a drunk. Low and sly the man never seemed to be fully conscious of what he or others were doing. He owed money to a bad man that came around every two weeks or so.
    "Those stupid people. The only reason they have that beautiful house is because that man stuck his neck out for them. John if you ever see Mr. Bandello come onto this block, you keep your head down and pull yourself and your sister back inside. Bring those poor children with you." That's what my mother always said when the Ames family was brought up.
    I hear my sister's tiny feet tiptoeing through the autumn leaves around the corner and I run to the other side of the house, past the patio and through the backyard. Right as I turn the corner I stop dead in my tracks. Mr. Bandello's car is pulled up in front of the Ames home. I turn around and see Amy stopped next to me, staring at the same sight.
"Who else is playing with us?" I ask her.
"All three." She whispers. I push her toward the patio.
"I'll find them, go inside." I told her. She nods and takes off, tears in her eyes. She's scared. It makes sense that she is, Mr. Bandello is a man of horror stories. Especially the ones we've heard from her friends.
"Mr. Bandello hit my mommy last week... Then he hit Susan. George wanted to fight back but he didn't want to leave me alone." That's one that the youngest, Sally, had said.
The once beautiful, bright, and sunny morning now seemed colder. Bleak. I didn't mind it much, but once that feeling came around, everyone felt it. The Ames children sulked out of their hiding spots and found me to the right of my home. I picked up the five year old and shooed the older two toward the patio, taking one last look at the all black Yukon Denali with tinted windows. As I turn my back I hear voices rising from the house next door, and I hold Sally closer and close the patio door behind me.
My mother takes Sally from me and starts cooing at her, making her laugh and giggle. I walk off to my room and close the door, sitting on my bed to think. I glance out the window and see Mr. Bandello walking back to his car. Today's visit was shorter.
Mr. Bandello is a tall, handsome man that has the weight of his world showing in his tired brown eyes. He has on black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a very nice watch. He looks up and meets my eyes, a large smile coming to his face. He makes the gesture of tipping a hat in my direction. Then he climbs in the car and drives off, disappearing for what I hoped was another two weeks.
...

    He came back. It's only been a day. And this time he's parked in front of my house. He walks up to our front door and knocks three times. My mother inhales shakily from the stove. She was making breakfast. My father goes to the door, making us swear we will behave and stay seated. My father is an honest man, hardworking and diligent. He's had a rough life but he never goes without a smile on his face and something wise to say. Until now. The smile faded and the wisest thing he had in his mind was "stay seated" while he made his way to the front door. My mother watched him fearfully, insisting on a small kiss before he answered to the three devilish knocks. She was a beautiful woman, strong and intelligent. Nothing like the Ames woman. She, like my father, had a very rough life, but she does everything she can to do the best thing for us and have the family she's always wanted. But like my father's, her smile has disappeared. In its place is worry, fear, and the knowledge that the biggest cooking knife is in the small towel that she holds close on the counter, her delicate fingers wrapped around the cold handle.
     My father opens the door. The man speaks to him in a quiet voice and the three of us in the kitchen can't hear. My father straightens and reveals the bad man aiming a gun at my father. Before any of us have time to react he pulls the trigger and my ears begin to ring. My father falls to the ground silently, as if someone had pushed him back really hard and he lost balance. I run to him, falling on my knees and cradling his head, looking back up at the man as he raises his gun again. I run to my sister, knowing my mother is already falling, and I pull Amy out of the house, tossing her over the fence in the backyard and jumping over it myself, running as fast as I can, anywhere, nowhere. Mr. Bandello catches up in his big black car and I try to push Amy into a bush but his car hits her and I scream, falling to my knees again. He drives away and sirens begin to blare. I look behind us at Mrs. Ames holding a phone up to her ear and sigh, looking at my seven year old twin sister's mangled body, tears silently rolling down my cheeks. I sit there with my sister, moving to cradle her head, until the cops show up. Mrs. Ames throws up and I notice that the baby bump has started going away instead of growing. He must have done something to the baby.
    The police showed up and I turned to stone. I didn't say anything, I didn't do anything, I just sat there. I did as they said and got into their cars and followed them to different places. But I didn't say anything. Not even a week later at my family's funeral. Not even a month later when I got to the boys home.