{Me}

March 6 at 7:26 pm, the boy died.
March 6 at 7:31 pm, the girl died.
March 6 at 7:34 pm, the twins died.

I’m the one that found Him. I found Her. I found Them.
The police don’t know who did it. They just know how.
I sat there and listened as they talked.
They didn’t seem to see me.
They didn’t care. About me, about Him, Her, or Them. While the coroner took their bodies and shoved them in the body bags, they were laughing. They were telling jokes, thats what they were doing.
I guess I can’t blame them though. Probably seen too many bodies to care about the dead teenagers in front of them. I rode in the back of the police car, but they still didn’t speak to me.
I tried to, I really did.
“Listen to me! Please?”
They still refused. I wish they would just listen. No one listens. I tried to tell them before that it was going to happen tonight. I told him someone is coming. They hear but they never listen. No one listens.
Except for Him. And Her. And the Twins. They listened. He thought he listened, but that wasn’t true. So I left, he left. But he didn’t really leave. He stayed.
We get to the Police Station, and I try to tell them, I tried to talk. But all they did was sit at their desks. I know who did it. I know. I watch as the parents come in.
His, Hers, Theirs, mine.
They’re all here. I see them yelling trying to get answers, crying. They tell the parents what happened.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss. Really.”
“What happened? How? She was supposed to be safe!”
“Exactly! He said that it was safe! He said he’d be safe!”
“Please, just listen!”
“No, my children are dead! And all you're doing is sitting at your desks not even trying to find their killer! Find my Twins’ killer!”
“Okay, now listen, I know you’re grieving, I know you’re hurting, but I need your cooperation. Okay?”
“Alright, now, the situation, the crime scene, was pretty… dirty. It was hard but we figured it out. All your children were at the cabin that night correct? We think the killer was pretty messed up. Mentally, I mean. But also smart, are you sure you want to hear this? Ok, well, we think that  they were kidnapped. Later they were-- and there is no easy way to say this so I am going to just come right out with it-- beaten, burned, and many other things that I would rather not say.”
“How did they die?”
“Well, it was just too much. They’re bodies were young and even though they were in shape and healthy they just couldn’t handle anymore.”
“So you’re saying they died in pain?”
“Did they go quickly?”
“I’m sorry but, um, the answer to those question is- yes and no.”
“And, you still don’t know who the killer is?”
“No, sir.”
Four pairs of parents, one pair of detectives. It just seemed unfair. It’s not their fault. The killer left no tracks, no tracks at all. I’m the only one who knows who killed Him, Her, and Them.
Me, just me. As I look at Him, Hers, and Theirs parents, I feel the tears slowly trailing down my cheeks. The lump in my throat, it burns. God it hurts. And not just because of the goose egg in my throat, my heart hurts. It feels like there's something pressing on my chest, like my lungs and heart were replaced by an anvil.
I push out air. Then I force it back in. I do that over and over. I think it calmed me, because I no longer feel like there's an anvil in me, more like an elastic band trying to make it impossible for me to breath. 
I need to admit it. I need to admit who killed them. But they won’t listen again. It’s impossible for me to communicate with them. I didn’t think the parents liked me that much.
I try. I try so hard.
They always thought I was a liar.
So they decide not to listen to what I say.
I guess the little boy who cries wolf really does get what he deserves.
But they need to believe me when I say:

It was me.
I killed them.
All me.
But I won’t tell.
I can’t.
Because on March 6 at 7: 19, I died.

--

{The Man}

I watch The Girl.
As she cries.
She’s not beautiful.
‘ But she’s not ugly.

They’re all the same. Going crazy, not knowing what is happening. Trying to talk. The Girl is just the same. But now I have to do my job. She’s had her time.
“We need to go.”
“You- you can hear me?”
“Wait, wait. Tell me what’s happening! Stop, let me go!”
“It is time.”
“Time? Time for what?”
“Oh. Oh! No I can’t go.”
“They need to know, they need to know what happened!”
“They will figure it out. On their own. That's what they are there for. It is time to go.”
“No.”
One word. That was it. No. They always say no. They always feel this way. Especially ones with souls as damaged as hers is. 
Damaged. I was called damaged. I am damaged. I will be damaged.

The Girl runs. And runs.
Far away.
Away from me.

I find her. I find The Girl.
I try, this is always hard.
“Listen to me? Now!”

---

{Me}

The Man tried to talk. The Man tried to make me listen. But I only heard.
“It’s time to go.”
I heard. I didn’t listen.
They need to know. I need to tell them.
But I can’t. I don’t know how.

“I don’t have the patience for this. Get your arse up now!”
A sudden urge to yell comes to me. It bubbles up inside me and it starts in my chest works its way to my face. Water. There’s water coming from my eyes, my nose. All brackish and clear.
But there’s also the weight I feel on my shoulder, the sudden feeling to clutch my heart; rip it out.
And then there’s the part where my head is spinning, the urge to just scream out what I have done. That no one will ever love me again if they just knew; knew what I have done.
What is this?
Anger.
Sadness.
Guilt.
They overcome me. I hear my blood rushing in my ears; my heart beating. Woosh, woosh.
Is this possible? To hear blood in my ears? Is it possible? To hear my own heart beating? Is it possible, to feel emotions when you're dead? Is it?
Or is this a dream?
Those things that you think of when you’re asleep.
Maybe in black and white. Or in color.
Woosh, woosh.
I push out air. Then I force it back in.

---

{Detective}

“I did it.”

A confession.
An admission of guilt.

I’ve been so stressed. The Parents have been harassing me since day one.
I don’t know how to figure this out, I don’t know how to find the killer.

I don’t know.
My mind is out of leads.

And then it happens. He says it. That one line. Those three words.
I cling to them.
I did it.
A confession.
An admission of guilt.

“I need to speak with someone.”
“You’ll have to wait sir.”
“You don’t understand, it’s important!”
“So is everyone else's problems. There is a line.”
“I have information. On a murder. You can tell them it’s exclusive.”

Exclusive.
Murder.

“She left me! I’m sorry I thought-- I just, I got so mad and I didn’t mean to, but it just happened and I was drunk! I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I just I loved her, so much, a-an-and she just, she just broke up with me for no reason. Said I didn’t listen! I listened! I listened when she came and cried to me about her family, about how they always mistreated, and thought she was lying. She would talk forever and ever and never shut up and I just I-I I was drunk. And I needed her back but she wouldn’t listen. So, I--I got rid of her. If I couldn’t have her, nobody could. And Him. He was trying to get her. Into her. I’m not crazy. I could see Him trying. I’m not crazy. I’m not. I promise. Please believe me, please. I killed her first. I didn’t want her to see what I was going to do to Him. No matter how much I was mad at her I still loved her. So I started on Him. He needed to feel how I felt when she left me. I strung Him up with a rope tying his hands so if He wanted to breath He had to pull himself up. I finished my cig, and thought why let the rest of this go to waste? So I asked Him if He wanted some, and He told me He didn’t smoke. I laughed, I laughed in His face. He didn’t like that. No, He did not. So He spit in my face. Oh, that made me mad yes. And so, I gave Him some of that cig. He got some on his arms. His pretty, pretty face. And I couldn’t stand to look at those damn green eyes. So I had them closed. He didn’t like it, at all. But then Her and Them came after me. I had forgotten all about them. That’s where I got this gash. Came at me with my own knife. So I killed Him, Then I started on Her. She didn’t last as long as He did. And She was boring. All She did was cry. Jesus She was almost as bad as her. But then I started on Them. Wooh, it was great. Just to be funny I killed them at the same time. Funny right. Because they’re twins you get it? No? Ok. But after all that happened, I started thinking. She wouldn’t have wanted me to do this. God, she would be so mad if she was alive. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just- God this beer tastes good!”

A confession.
An admission of guilt.

---

{The Girl}

I watch him as he tries to confess.
As he drinks the same beer he always drinks.
It’s my fault.
My fault that they’re dead.
If I would have never left him, they would be alive.
He killed them because of me.

But they know now.
The detectives.
The know, what happened. They know, that I killed them.
The Man tells me that it’s time to go now. Again.
I guess he’s the person that is supposed to take me wherever I am supposed to go from here.

But wait. I need to watch.
He’s doing something. Oh!
A gun.
Oh!
He put it to his head.
Wait.
Bang.
Oh.

I feel something wash over me. Peace?
And then I go.
They know.
So I go.
It’s time, to go.