# 1 > Eight Years Ago
THE REASON his plan was so good was because it was so simple. He was counting on one fact. Joey was stupid. Not really stupid like, stupid stupid, just dumb. When Jeremy told Joey he'd found a hidden cache of money and jewels in the woods, probable hidden there by a robber, Joey was dumb enough to believe him. Jeremy laughed out loud at the thought. He looked down, aimed his father's old H&R 22-caliber revolver, and took another shot, this time in the head. The boy on the ground stopped his pathetic whining, crying, and pleading, and remained silent and still. The deed was done; someone had to take care of this. He knew no one would understand. Certainly not his mother, or the police, but Jeremy knew all too well, it had been necessary. The bully would torture him no longer. Shoving the weapon behind his belt, Jeremy Spencer looked around. Except for a couple of birds breaking the stillness, the forest was dim and quiet.
# 2 > He crouched down and examined the body. The first bullet had entered the victim's stomach. Blood flowed from the wound and darkened the hue of the already red and brown autumn leaves beneath the fresh corpse. The second bullet entered just below Joey's left eye. Blood trickled down, followed the path of his cheekbone, down his neck, finally dripping like dew onto the forest floor. Drip, drip, drip. He reached out and touched the wound beneath Joey's eye. It felt warm. He looked at the crimson on his finger and gently touched it to his tongue. It tasted sweet and thick. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, the taste of blood on his tongue somehow making him feel pure, whole, and righteous. He was filled with a feeling of euphoria, breathing rapidly, his heart racing, excited. He knew at that moment, what he's done was fully justified. He remained still for several minutes, pondering the deed, and thought about his father. Father would approve. Finally, he stood, straightened his back, and took a deep breath.
# 3 > He bent over, grabbed the bloody corpse by the leg, and dragged it to the hole he has previously prepared. A fierce shove with his foot sent the body tumbling over, and then down, finally landing with a thud at the bottom of the waiting grave. He picked up the shovel and set about filling in the hole. Jeremy labored for some time, humming to himself as he worked. Finally, he tossed the last shovel full of dirt, covered the area with twigs, branches, and dead leaves, and stood back. "That should do it," he said aloud. He contemplated a moment longer, and then resting the shovel on his shoulder, he turned and hurried for home. He was expected to be there by five o'clock, and he didn't want to keep his mother waiting.
