Tommy was bound to a metal chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by the six pairs of parents that lived in our neighborhood. Their backs were to me but I could see Tommy’s flawless face gazing up at them. Megan’s father was there, his face a mess of bruises and swollen flesh. His arm was in a sling and it looked like his shoulders slumped like his back was in pain.

I sucked in a breath as I realized one of the men was passing my father a pistol. The women stood by their husbands with grim looks on their faces. There was no disagreement among the executioners.

“It’s time you leave our lives,” One of the men said, looming over Tommy. I recognized him as my friend Luke’s father. They lived two houses down. “This is your last chance,” He growled.

Tommy didn’t even struggle in his rope bindings, that ever present smile still on his face. He looked up at them, the overhead light illuminating his sparkling blue eyes, “I don’t understand, I’m just trying to help all of you raise your children properly. I’m not going anywhere.”

A look passed between the parents and then my father put the gun to Tommy’s head, “You’re not helping anyone. You’re a monster. You can’t come into our homes and threaten our children, threaten our lives. That’s not how this works. All those threats you whispered to us while we were caught off guard…well look at you now,” My father spat on him, “Pathetic. And now you’ll get yours.”

My father shot him in the head.

The report was deafening and I almost screamed, slamming my hand over my mouth at the last second.

Tommy’s head whipped back as the smell of gunsmoke spiked the air.

It was silent for a moment…and then…

“Hehehehehehe…”