Jack Follman

It’s entirely possible grizzlymane415 was completely making this detail up, or it was something he had heard through word of mouth, but those goosebumps upon my arms also knew another thing most self-taught murder experts learn in their 101 class. Murderers love to brag about their work, even though they know it almost always leads to them being caught.

“The last thing he always says before he goes away. I heard the phrase so many times, I remembered it and asked Tokinari, the Japanese fellow in here, what it means. He said, you will die too. That’s what it means.”

I grabbed Ray’s hand and felt something thick and wet transfer onto mine. I looked down at it. Deep, red, blood. “You have blood all over your hand.”

I looked closely at the photo. At first glance, it was just your typical drunk high school party group photo. However, on the far right of the picture was the head and shoulders of a man I had never seen before.

They said they found me in a girl from school’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I don’t remember being there. I don’t remember her parents shining a flashlight on me. I don’t remember her screaming.

I felt the presence of a new weight introduce itself to the foot of the bed. The dark and the adrenaline of shock and blush clouded my vision, but I could see a presence approach me from the foot of the bed.

There was a time when I was controversial, but society swayed heavily in my favor the past two decades. There used to be debate about whether or not I should go to prison, whether or not I was a murderer.

“This old trail used to be the only way through this little strip of Colorado to get onto Utah in the Winter when the snow was high, but it would give you about a 50/50 shot at making it. About half the people would freeze or starve to death. Take your pick. But the real story is, it wasn’t that simple. That was just a good alibi.”