Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

I never disliked Thursdays. This one in particular I quite enjoyed. It was the 2^nd of September 2004, my first day of secondary school and my 12^th birthday.  Now, to say the story started here is I suppose a little pernickety; but yes, technically, this is where it began for me. For you of course this all began a lot later, and that’s the part I know you’re really interested in so we will skip ahead for now. No, this won’t take long. I promise.

The part of the story that concerns you began 11 years later -Not that I’m suggesting you were there, of course. I never really told you about that day, and what I can tell you I have only pieced together from television reports and newspapers. Luckily the story made the national news otherwise I might never have found out - at least not until after the funeral. I have my reasons in waiting this long to tell you, and I’m sorry if what you hear upsets you but you need to know what happened and how it involves you. You never even knew these people, after all, so it may seem strange at first but you will begin to understand why I am telling you this. Years before you born, in the early hours of a muggy, October morning a man named Dylan Hogarth made a phone call to the police. When they arrived at his bedsit they found him sat on a mouldy bathmat, resting his head against the bathtub. He’d never killed anybody before - but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t mean to. There was less blood than he thought there’d be.