Sometimes 

late at night 

when it's only me 

the moon 

and 

the locked doors. 

I go outside, try to take a walk, catch fireflies 

I also look in the shed 

the place I crave 

but shouldn't 

enter slightly sliding one door only seeing what the moon has shined on 

he doesn't want me to see the shovels 

I open the other door so the shovels shimmer in the light 

I can see them 

They glisten 

shovels, ropes, guns 

I grasp for the shovel

imagine digging a 6ft hole 

covering someone's face watching dirt specks bounce off there unbothered expression  

something scurries in the distance like a coon or leaves 

probably the moon giving me a sign 

he's the only one who knows 

about my secrets 

my emotions 

my thoughts 

My past

unclenching my fist, trickling my fingers down the handle, my fingers tainted from the rust 

I put the shovel away exactly where it was 

gently close the shed

and walk back to the path

Say goodbye to the moon and thank him for one more night 

scrunching my dirty socks off my feet 

creaking the door slightly 

shimmying my way through the narrow entrances I walk in through the front door 

passing family photos my family all smiling 

for they don't know what I'm thinking 

staring at the oldest family picture

I was three when they took me in, my brother was one

creep upstairs not touching the railing to leave anymore prints 

make sure I can see the moon from my window

I bundle and throw my socks in my hamper and back to bed I lay  

***

I step downstairs taking all the same steps as last night 

mom’s cooking something for Don she steps away from the low flame 

which makes a flame grow in me 

I could switch it to high 

add gas 

my fingers tingle 

I hold onto my pant seam 

“Morning Johnathon. Would you like eggs? Donovans having some'' 

even in foster care Donovan ate eggs for breakfast everyday 

I hate them 

Sick of seeing them

Sick of smelling them more

Sick of Don eating them 

and getting asked if I want some 

“No I'm going to school” 

“Oh ok dear, see you after school!”

I step out the same path take a good look at the shed 

I realize I'm frozen

mother looking at me through the window, 

upstairs father just turned on the light to get ready for work 

pulling on the handle of my backpack, taking bigger steps now, I speed walk to school

everyones lining up to get inside 

I stay on the edges

I don't like anyone here 

There all bad to me because I’m a foster kid

but they don't care

they don't get it 

don't even bother to know my name 

when they talk about me I’m just 

“foster kid”

They harass me 

I would like to show them who I am 

show them my shovels 

I tell the moon about them 

he agrees with me 

they should be punished

But mother says when I'm upset I should draw. 

I draw many bodies 

Many

sometimes I'll give them flowers or a tree to lay under 

or a funny hat maybe a bushy mustache

“Jonathan Murrey, please come to the office” 

everyone’s eyes turn to me as I make my way to the office

The principal and guidance counsel are in chairs 

Waiting 

Watching

“Hello Jonathan, how are you?...take a seat” 

Door clicking I pull the chair out 

“So we have found something a little disturbing” he pulls my black notebook out of his drawers “Mr. Johnson and I are worried about this. Is everything alright?”

”I'm not sure what you're talking about”

 Mrs. Watski the counselor looks over at Mr. Johnson  

“Would you like to look at what I'm talking about?” 

I nod 

she flips through the pages, all wrinkled and worn, finds a few of my more older drawings 

she flips the book to my side 

it's when I drew Jessica Lanster and Ashley Reagen 

both of their skeletons lay together smooshed 

with a scramble of their names together on a tombstone  

“I think you're mistaken about what you see. It shows the power of friendship friends til death, how their lives are so woven into each others it's like they’re one” 

*BLING BLING* 

“Ok Johnathan, head on to your next class just know we will be contacting your mother” 

“She's not my mother” 

door slams before they can say anything 

Why would they tell her? 

Is she going to see the drawings?

What's the problem?

 ***

 “I'm home” 

“Oh good, dear, good, come sit. I made pie” 

she always makes pie when she is stressed 

“Look, I'll tell you what you want to hear. I did make the drawings 

and I don't see the issue it's my expression 

you 

told 

me 

to 

draw it's my way of showing my feelings” 

plunking my backpack on the chair, heading upstairs 

leaving her with 

her thoughts

on how to re approach the situation 

she always blames my frustration on my foster trauma about being abandoned from my biological parents but it's her who makes my blood boil and teeth clench 

Upstairs I’m sketching more skulls of my mother 

the moon snarls to me 

“friend, they know too much the day we have been waiting for is finally about to come” 

months of 

waiting 

planning 

urging 

it's all finally come to one day 

tonight 

***

Tonight was the night I planned it with the moon my dearest friend 

today was the final day 

everything was in place

the final details were ready

it's late 

very 

late 

late enough for the moon shine to light my room 

That's my signal to go

I creep through the house 

like I always did before 

grabbing what I need 

taking the shovels around the house 

going through the back door 

taking my socks off 

wacking the dirt off of them and bundling them into my pocket 

frockling from one room to another 

taking the pictures down 

throwing them outside 

Each step 

I take 

I feel 

more joy

more peace

all my anger is fading 

jiggling the door 

I squat crawling 

To

The

End

Of their bed 

I position myself cocking the gun 

pointing at father first 

he was so self-centered, cheated on mother all the time 

*bam* 

blood splatters the walls 

Quickly

before mother wakes up 

I cock it back and shoot her 

*bam* 

her arms unfold 

throwing the gun out the window 

Taking one last look at the creation that I did. A new hew of colors paints the room 

a new splash of emotions filled me

wrapping their bodies in the blanket 

I drag them to the head of the steps 

I look out the window 

at the moon 

he's proud he glows with joy 

you are free he tells me

you're free 

stepping away from the spotlight of the moon I check on Don 

“Please don't kill me, please” 

“Don, Don it's ok, it's me. I'm not going to kill you” 

Why are you covered in blood, 

get away 

Get away

Where's mama, what did you do?!” 

“Don, shut up 

they’re gone 

in a better place 

don't you understand  we’re 

free you,me,and the moon”

“why did you do it John 

why?

I liked our family. We had a 

perfect family”

“No, Don, we didn't. They weren't our parents. They didn’t love us or even each other 

father was a cheat and mother was a secret drunk” 

“That's not true. You you made that up

where are you going” 

“to bury them”

each 

step 

down 

was even more joy than going up 

a trail of blood was following 

but something else was following 

Don

“Don, get out of here go in your closet like how you did in the orphanage” 

“be nice to there bodies, John”

Holding his bear tight to his face

“I will take good care of them. Go in your closest, count to 300 before I shoot you too” 

***

Red and blue show through the windows, peeking on what's going on in the house

But I'm outside with the moon 

guiding me, telling

me to continue on the 

6 foot holes 

that need to be done. 

Moon said they need to be…

“Put Your Hands Up!” 

What? Why would I need to put my hands up? 

I’m pushed up against a cold car 

“Officer what's wrong?? I freed them you should be thanking me 

THANKING ME”

***

In the station they ask you questions in a way that you give the answer they wanna hear 

“Why did you do it?”

“I already told you I shot them and used the shovels from the shed”

“No, that's how. 

Why”

“They needed to be free. Mother was a secret drunk, and father was a cheat.

Their graves would have been done!

Till Don called "

"How do you know that those things are true? 

Do you even have remorse for what you did? 

I mean this was 

brutal and sick”

Luckily Donovan survived, he's in the clinic…

Why didn't you kill him?” 

his beady little eyes begging me he's never hurt a fly no reason to kill him he needs to find a reason to live holding his teddy he's had since he was a baby 

I close the closet door and leave him there 

“He didn't need to be killed, he needed to be freed 

We freed him! ” 

looking at my shoes, they gave me slides, my shoes were dirty 

Good thing I took my socks off and hid them in my hamper with my other socks before the cops came 

“We?”

***

“Today, March 3, 2017 on MN we have reports of a 13-year-old boy who killed his parents.  

We have footage of him calling the moon his partner? Roll the clip.”

Screams. “I didn't do anything wrong 

I freed them 

me and the moon 

please you gotta believe me. I'm telling the truth.

 it was for the better you need to understand!” 

“We will get back to you with more information I'm your host Kelsey Terence on channel MN” 

“Ugh, Paul, come get this mic off. I'll be back in five. I need a minute that news was brutal.  

I mean really, the moon? Whacko.” 

***

Taken in cold cuffs never felt this restraint even my mind feels chained. 

“Well, good thing you look good in orange. You're gonna be in that color for a while.” 

The officer clinging her pen on the bars 

“She says that to every cellmate. I'm Curt. Friends call me Curly, you can have top bunk…hey I’ve been here a while. Your’e pretty young. What you do?” 

“Killed my parents'' 

walking past him I pounce to my bed 

no window 

no moon 

How can this be? 

Who will I talk to? 

Who will understand me? 

this can't be happening 

the only thing I care for is gone

moon 

I scratch the wall 

please 

“I'm sorry I'll take the blame, noooo! Please, where are the windows” 

“Hey Kid, chill out, we don't have windows on this floor.” 

“lights out in 5”