About the Author: The author of "The Circle of Death" is 14, and likes running and playing the clarinet in band.
Jesse Murphy
I stood in the dead silent room, so close to Charlotte Eleanor Walsh. I had observed her for years. She always had such a photogenic and beautiful face. Now she was still, as if she was frozen in time.
I stared at the body laying below me, so still and lifeless. I then grabbed it’s ankles and proceeded to drag it down the dim hallway with a giant chandelier, across the living room with wooden wallpaper and crown moldings, and out the giant wood doors in the back. As I stepped outside the mood changed. The air suddenly got much more breathable. The inside smelled so dusty, one might wonder if had ever been cleaned. Everything was so still in the canopy of trees. I stood there for a second. For once in my life, the voices in my head were silent. All I could hear was my heavy breathing. The air was cold and dry, and I could tell the ground had recently defrosted.
Charlotte Eleanor Walsh
Every time I walk down the hall, people stare. I can feel their eyes on me. Everyone acts like they’re scared of me, but honestly, I’m scared of them. Every morning I wake up, and I have to get into character. They all expect me to be perfect. I fight the urge to look at the floor. I can smell alcohol on certain people already. This mixed with the mystery meatloaf smell from the cafeteria was less than pleasant. It makes me want to throw up. I hear whispering. I can’t make out what they’re saying. Maybe that’s a good thing. They’re probably saying that I don’t matter and that I’m fake. I’m hosting a party tonight. Doing crap like that helps builds stronger walls so I don’t break. The walk home allows me to think. I often think about what would happen if I die. Would anyone care?
Jesse Murphy
I walked about fifty yards behind her. She looked sad. Charlotte always acts fine at school, but a little sad on the way home. She’s still perfect, but just sad.
All of the sudden, the voices in my head get much louder. They tell me to hurt her, tell me that she is a bad person. It takes a few seconds for them to take complete control of me. I pull out my knife.
Charlotte Eleanor Walsh
When I am about three minutes away from my house, I get a feeling. I get those things sometimes. They’re usually nothing, but I walk a little faster. I can’t tell what it’s about, but it makes my stomach hurt. I pick up my pace a little bit.
Jesse Murphy
“Breathe in, breathe out,” I whispered to myself. “Breathe in, breathe out.” I had stopped to calm down.
I closed my eyes and let myself feel a cold breeze on my bare arms. I had managed to slightly quiet the voices in my head. I opened my eyes and saw that the sky was grey. It was starting to rain. I ran home as the sky opened up. I figured I should probably go to Charlotte’s party later.
Michael Reid
I smiled at myself in the mirror as I showed my buddy Mitchell my clothes for the party.
“Dude, Charlotte’s gonna love you,” he assured me as I adjusted the leather jacket.
We were hanging out in my spacious bedroom. The sun shone through my large windows and reflected on the grey walls.
“Of course she is. Everyone loves me,” I laughed. “Charlotte’s easy. She’s lucky to have me.”
“She’s hot,” he added
“I know, do you think I’m blind. I get to look at that every day,” I reminded him.
We headed down the main staircase in my house to my car. It still has the fresh new car scent.
“Hey, Charlotte won’t care if we're late. You wanna go pick up some beers?” I suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” he confirmed “Hey, what if we bring some needles and shoot up in the woods at around ten.”
Charlotte Eleanor Walsh
I found my friend Karen in the crowds of people at my house.
“Hey, have you seen Michael at all?” I asked.
“No, sorry.” she answered, “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” I lied.
I was starting to worry about him. Once again, I scanned the dimly lit, crowded room that smelled like Axe body spray. Right as I turned around I saw Michael and his best friend Charles. They seemed pretty drunk. I could smell alcohol, as if they sweat it through their pores.
“Heyyy, baby” he laughed. His speech was slurred.
“Michael, what took you so long? I thought you were hurt. You told me you’d be here at…”
“Charlotte, baby, chill, fear is ugly on such a pretty girl like you,” he interrupted “You’re very lucky to have me you know, but I don’t want to be with ugly girls.” I stood there speechless. Had he really just said that?
I grabbed his arm and dragged him up the wide staircase and into the guest bedroom. I slammed the door and flicked the switch to reveal a large room with beige walls and carpet that felt like you were standing on clouds. I just stood there staring at him, in disbelief with myself for ever thinking I liked him.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I screamed. I tried to pull myself together and be civilized, but that wasn’t working, I couldn’t stop. This felt so good. I had been storing up anger and hate inside myself for a long time for everyone, including myself.
“Baby, it’s okay, just calm down. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He then tried to kiss me and was dumbfounded when I pulled away.
My anger was now uncontrollable and I wanted to go be alone. As my hand extended towards the door he grabbed it.
“Oh no. You’re not going anywhere,” he stopped me.
Jesse Murphy
I stood still, behind the green velvet curtains. I peered through watching closely as Charlotte tried to leave the room. Michael had a tight grip on the gold plated door knob, and there was no way he was going to let Charlotte leave.
“LET ME OUT” she yelled.
“Shut up or I’ll kill you!” he whispered. Charlotte was sobbing by now. I don’t blame her, she should be scared for her life. I always knew there was something off about Jesse, but I didn’t realize he was crazy.
Crazy, the voices told me, you’re crazy. Even your parents thought so. Nobody loves you.
“STOP!” I yelled at them.
“What was that?” Michael asked, “WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?” I froze. Damnit! What did I just do? I hear the floorboards under the red carpet creak.
Charlotte Eleanor Walsh
I watched as Michael moved across the room in slow motion. Past the bed, past the bureau, towards the window. He pulled the green curtain to reveal a pale, scrawny girl who looked about our age. She couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds. She stood there, wearing a stained, white, oversized dress with misplaced pockets, looking terrified. It occurred to me that now would be a good time to make a run for it. I slowly twisted the doorknob, praying it wouldn’t squeak. However, this was an old house, so it wasn’t unlikely. Right, when I thought I was in the clear the door creaked and immediately Michael turns around.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he narrowed his eyes. “No one’s leaving until I find out who you are,” he said, pointing at the damaged girl by the window. “And why Charlotte is acting like a crazy bitch!”
I knew it was a terrible idea, but I had to try to run. The odds seemed about as in my favor as if I were a third grader being chased by the athletic kids in a competitive game of capture the flag, but I tried it anyway. Immediately as I stepped into the hallway I checked to see if anyone was there to witness what was about to happen, but like everything else in my life, I was alone and terrified. I ran as fast as I could, not looking back because that would make this all real. Every step was a struggle. Each time my foot hit the floor I could feel myself getting slower. I knew he was right behind me, and it was only a matter of time before he caught up. Just as I had predicted, he grabbed my arm. When I tried to scream, he put his hand over my mouth. I had always thought about leaving this earth, but not like this. I tried to fight, but the running had taken all my energy.
Michael Reid
I couldn’t believe another girl had started acting like this. Charlotte always seemed a little off, but I never thought she would escalate to this level. I could feel her trying to break free of my tight grip, but she had no strength whatsoever. I dragged her back into the room. I probably gave the stalker enough time to escape, but if I were to check, Charlotte might try to run again. As I dropped her on the floor, I heard her head hit. Slamming the door shut gave me enough time to think about what I had to do. I thought about my last girlfriend, Lucy. I let her get way out of hand.
It started with her lashing out for no reason, just like Charlotte was doing now. Lucy began to take money from me to buy drugs. She was a complete mess. I should have done something about earlier. I couldn’t let that happen to Charlotte. When they found Lucy’s body a few weeks later, they all just assumed it was her brother, who she had a falling out with a few months prior to.
Jesse Murphy
I watched in shock as Michael pinned Charlotte to the floor with his hands gripping her neck. I could tell that she was quickly losing air. I pulled out the knife I kept with me at all times. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but a voice told me to do it. I ran across the room, and without even thinking, I threw the knife into Michael’s neck. Once again, I stood there in shock watching as Michael’s grip loosened on Charlotte’s neck and he fell backward. I watched as Charlotte regained the ability to breathe while Michael went lifeless. Eventually, Charlotte looked around to see what happened, and her eyes stopped on Michael. She looked up at me and started moving away.
“It’s okay Charlotte, I’m not going to hurt you.” I offered her my hand to help her up, and after some hesitation she grabbed it.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She stood there, so still and frozen. Her usually stunning face had been altered.
Although she still had her glowing red hair that reached her elbows and her blue eyes that you could see the whole world in, she had been changed. The world in her eyes had gone dark, displaying the bad in the world. I guided her to the bed. She shouldn’t have to take care of this, and nothing could really break me more than I had already was. I grabbed the feet of Michael’s body and dragged it down the dim hallway with a giant chandelier, across the living room with wooden wallpaper and crown moldings, and out the giant wood doors in the back. The air was cool and dry. I took a deep breath. I quickly grabbed some matches that were lying on the grill and headed for the woods. For a while, I kept turning around to see if I could still see the light from Charlotte’s house party because I couldn’t burn it with anyone in sight. Once I couldn’t see any light from the house, I poured a little bit of gasoline, lit a match, and threw it on Michael. His body illuminated everything around me, including the face of Mitchell Taylor.
30 years later
Charlotte Eleanor Walsh
I woke up this morning feeling different. I knew visiting my parents at my childhood home wasn’t a great idea, but I didn’t think it would feel like this. I had things in my past, dark things that I don’t think about. I can’t, because if I did I would be destroyed. I use to think about it a lot, but someone told me I had to throw a sheet over the past, and look towards the future. Sometimes, though, there’s a strong wind that lifts the sheet, and I remember everything. Being here, where it happened, it hurts. I thought by now I would be able to be at the house I spent my childhood at, a place that gave me more innocence than it took. I thought that spending a week in the summer at my parent’s would be okay. I thought about how I was at that party waiting for Jesse, but she never returned. I remember reading in the newspaper that they found a scrawny girl’s body wearing a stained white dress, hanging in the woods, and how they called it a suicide, and how I knew it really wasn’t, and how I know exactly who did it. I thought about how Jesse had saved my life, only to be brutally murdered hours later. She was so caring, despite going through hell. I learned from the newspaper that her parent were teenagers when they had her, and when she was three, she watched them use heroin, and die right in front of her. She was then sent to live with her uncle who beat and raped her. When she was twelve, she ran away from him, and was on the move for the last four years of her life. She was so alone. was so unfair, and her story was far from over.