Cruel Intensions: Being Inside the Mind of a Young Serial Killer

January 28

They found the body today. Not as fast as we thought they would. Obviously, we gave them too much credit. The police are not as smart as we are. No one is.

We stood on the sidewalk and watched. What a stupid pitiful scene. Grown men in tears throwing up in bushes. They wandered around and around the corners of Wilson Park, trampling on the grass and breaking off some branches. They prayed to God but nothing changed. No one was given the answer of who and why. Tommy Richards remained dead, his arms and legs in an awkward position.

We stood on the sidewalk as the ambulance came in with its lights flashing followed by more cops and nosy people from around town. We stood in the crowd, but no one saw us. No one looked at us. They thought we were beneath their notice, unimportant. But we really are above them, beyond them and invisible to them. They are blind, stupid and trusting. They would never think to look at us.

We are only twelve years old.