A boy named Thomas Crestrim was an average boy who had several friends who came over and played. They rode bikes together and occasionally went to the ice cream store. It was a warm sunny day in the middle of June, but all of that changed when one of Thomas’s neighbors ran to the edge of the river where Thomas and his friend watched the clouds slowly move across the ocean blue sky. The neighbor’s name was Kip. A man who was a bit odd at times and was never invited to block parties, but the Crestrim’s were Kip’s only friends. Even to this day, Thomas Crestrim can still remember the exact words that Kip said with four words.”Your parents are dead.”

Thomas thought it was one of Kip’s cruel jokes, but the expression on his face was able to prove that thought wrong. His happy blue eyes had turned into deep stress. His round pudgy face was now a stern, sour face that looked like his plush cheeks had just disappeared. But the most alarming of all was the faint smell of alcohol, probably trying to drown his sorrows. Thomas stood there as still as a wax figure. His friend, Riley, saw Thomas’s face turn white.

“Thomas, who is this guy?” asked Riley. Thomas pushed Riley away and sprinted home, Kip following behind. When Thomas got home, he found ‘DO NOT CROSS’ tape sprawled all across his little house like a spider web tied around a fly. Police cars and ambulances were surrounding the house, flashing red, white, and blue. Thomas ran up to a policeman, “Where are my parents!” shouted Thomas, his eyes tearing up. The policeman slowly pointed a finger toward four people, each pair carrying a stretcher.

Thomas burst out in tears. On the stretchers he saw two bodies, dripping blood as they were carried away from the house and into the ambulance. Both of his parents’ faces were struck with fear and pain. Their eyes had turned to a blank color. Thomas tried to run to his parents but the policeman held him back. Thomas was sprawling in the policeman’s arms. He dragged him away into a police car and locked the door. “LET ME OUT!” he yelled. Thomas banged against the window, he pushed against the door so violently that his arm began to ache.

Finally he gave up. He lay down on the back seat of the car, not being able to cry anymore. His eyes had turned pink and his shirt was damp with tears. He thought about what life was going to be like without his parents. Would he have to live in the local orphanage, would he have to live on the streets, leaving a tin cup out in front of himself with a ragged blanket wrapped around his ice cold body. The question that Thomas still asks himself, ‘What would’ve life been like if my parents hadn’t been killed by someone with the heart of a demon and the soul of Satan?’