A: Chapter One:

Prologue

My name is Carl Lever, and I'm a killer.

There are those of you reading this now thinking I am bragging. Believe
me I'm not. Far from it. In fact I don't even think I am a killer.
That's just how they categorize me. Loud and clear.

Killer.

Plastered in big red letters across every record that exists with the
name Carl Lever on it, ever since it happened.

That's all I am to some people.

A record. A number in a book.

I have to tell you, this place is killing me. This is not my home. My
home is a vast green paradise in comparison. But for as long as they
keep me here this is my home. To me it's just a room. A tiny, cramped,
putrid hole accommodating the top floor of Birstall Young Offenders
Centre. Which I share!

And Julian doesn't make the best company. Not since the accident.

Anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, I was telling you about Amy

***************

Amy was the most gorgeous girl in school.

Her beautiful flowing blond hair poured symmetrically down either side
of the most perfect face I've ever seen.

It was a shame she had to die.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The whole school was in hysteria
when they heard the tannoy.

"Could all students please report to the school hall immediately" Mr
Hunter the head teacher announced in his slightly feminine voice.

Of course, all the teachers panicked because they hadn't been briefed
about the whole situation. Our teacher at the time, Mr O'Flynn, was the
only calm teacher climbing down the stairs. This wasn't supposed to
happen. Not at our school. We didn't have incidents here.

At our school, perfection was a virtue.

When we got to the hall the mood was black. It hit you, like a bad
smell, as you entered the room. Mr Hunter stood on his usual perch,
behind the big white lectern. Next to him stood a young lady and a very
tall police officer. It was him that spoke first, after we had been
hushed.

"Now, I know this school has been prided on its short-term tradition
and its prospects for the future?" he swivelled and pointed at the
banner above his head. At the school crest that reads 'Excellence is
something we all have in common'.

I remember winning that stupid competition. You see, our school has
been open for about 4 years now and all the new recruits, so to speak,
had to enter a competition to come up with the snappiest slogan for the
school. I won. These new age schools. If I went to some Catholic school
in the centre, the banner would have been Latin or religious. Some nice
'Laborare est orare' slogan. That was my brother's school slogan. Until
they shut it down.

Apparently, religion means nothing anymore.

"?but I'm afraid something has happened" he continued.

The young lady, who at first was all huddled up, stood up to reveal a
beautiful face. One I'd seen before. However, her beauty was faded
somewhat, by the black streaks running down either cheek.

"P-p-please help me?find her?her" she paused for what seemed like an
eternity. "?her killer"

I remember gasping myself. She made it sound so?Hollywood. The room
went from a lulled silence to total chaos, within seconds. Mr Hunter
took over from then on. He liked to take over things when they got a
bit out of control.

He told us that Amy had died.

According to the police reports, she was found battered and bruised on
Westfield Park on the morning of January 8th. She had been strangled to
death.

I still had such reports.

He informed us that none of us were in danger, and the madman would be
found soon enough. The police were carrying out a countywide search and
we could all go back to our lessons as normal.

But of course, you knew all that.

****************

Violet Gregg is a weird sort of woman. I would say almost bizarre. Then
again all psychiatrists are. This was my first session with her. I'd
imagined an oversized baboon walking into the room, like the last
three. She was surprisingly young, mid 20's or so. And very
fashionable. She came in clutching a large briefcase and a mug of what
can only be described as boiling tar for me. I politely refused.

I couldn't help feeling that I had seen Violet somewhere before. The
only thing was I couldn't picture where from. I'm usually good with
faces. Was she an old teacher? A family friend? I'm sure I'll find
out.

She walked up to the vacant desk and placed a tape recorder on the desk
and turned to me.

"Now I know this is all in your file and clear for everyone to see, but
I'd like to hear it first hand." She paused. I'm sure I felt her face
twitch. I knew what she was going to ask. "Can you tell me about
Amy?"

There have been so many incidents in my life that I would love to just
throw away. That I just wish hadn't happened. But, as part of my
rehabilitation programme, these sessions are essential.

So, I go back again.