Charlotte was standing in front of me, tensed. After what she had done, one would obviously have such a feeling. The incident affrighted her and one could clearly understand that she was locked behind the bars of guilt and shame. This sort of prison often appalls people more than the real one. I snarled, “You simply killed him? And may I ask the reason? Well, it would definitely be something illogical! How could you do this? Tell me the reason right now! Are you even listening to me?” She stood still for a while, unable to recover from the trauma of killing a person.

“He was David Berkowitz and I killed him fortuitously.”- she whispered underneath her breath. I asked, “What did you just say?” She replied in a vexed manner, “Oh, come on Marilyn, I know you heard it!” “Well, I surely did! And now we are in trouble because you killed a serial killer! Great!”- I said with sarcasm. We were perturbed because of the feeling that someone may come after us soon or later. We reached home. Days passed by and there was no trace of people following or maybe checking on us. Everything was normal in our lives except the state of terror and suspicion.

It was 31^st October and it had been 6 months since the incident had occurred. We had planned a great jamboree for Halloween. I went to my room, shivering with trepidation. Every ring of the doorbell demanding treats felt like the one demanding death. It was almost time for the jamboree and I heard seven rings at once, then some more. I reached the door and peeped through. Then I opened it for the boy who was in a rush. He entered the house and was finally relieved. I asked him who he was and why he was here. He described himself as Benjamin, a 12-year-old tad escaping an old lady. I was perplexed so I just let him stay till he was composed. After approximately an hour, I heard a bang on the door. It was continuously banged until Benjamin opened the door. I heard his scream and saw him getting killed by a woman in front of my eyes. I closed the door immediately and she warned me from the outside that the shorty would be the next one. Shorty, I thought for a while. Well, Charlotte was short in height. “The lady's definitely related to that dead man!”- I thought. Just as I was going to inform Charlie, I heard gunshots. I was shot in the arm and Charlie was shot in the chest. I couldn’t save her. The grief hit me hard like an earthquake. I wept at the hospital for as long as I can remember and the doctor put in his best effort to compose me. Every single time I get reminded of this heart-rending incident, I cry my eyes out and hope to see her, though I know that’s never going to happen.