Evidence found on victim Gavi Hammond’s phone at the crime scene; depicts events leading up to death from victims perspective. Found at 12:34PM, October 27th.
3:24AM
I can hear it.
It’s coming from under my bed. I can hear the heavy breathing, the slight shuffling he makes when he moves.
I can barely think straight. All I can focus on are those sounds, the glint of a knife in the moonlight coming out from my window.
I can’t stop shaking, why can’t I stop shaking?
God somebody help me.
3:26AM
You know, at least I’m not alone. I have you all to keep me company, whoever it is that reads this of course. It’s my hopes that maybe my family will read this. That my parents would get to be with their little girl in her final moments.
3:27AM
I wonder if he can see the light from my phone.
I have it on the lowest brightness, I’ve hidden it under my blankets. Even then there’s nothing you can do to convince me that it’s not lit up like a Christmas tree.
I need to stay calm. I keep telling myself that it’ll be okay but why am I lying?
He’s moving.
I don’t know what to do.
The tears wont stop pouring out of my eyes, they’re made of faulty plumbing and I can’t make them stop.
3:31AM
I don’t know if I can be any more still than I just was. The rational side of me is saying that he was just readjusting himself. Something about the knife looks shinier now, more dangerous, more inescapable. Maybe it’s just the impending feeling doom but I can’t help but think why he hasn’t killed me yet. Is this some sort of sick fucking game for him?
It’s not like I can call anyone, he’ll hear me. It’s definitely too late to text anyone, they wouldn’t be awake. I’m so fucked so utterly fucked.
3:33AM
Everything seems darker when you’re waiting to die.
Gloom casts a shadow over any shred of hope you had left, any semblance of bravery. People always come up with elaborate tales they tell themselves, what they would do had it happened to them. Truth is, they’re just lies you tell yourself to feel better. When you’re waiting to die all you can do is watch the clock counting down the minutes to your demise.
I feel so helpless.
3:34AM
Mom I’m sorry, Dad too. I love you so much.
He’s moving again.
I think this is it.
I’m so fucking stupid.
3:35 AM
The first thing to get out from under the bed was a hand. Specifically the one with the knife. Upon further inspection I think it dawned on her that it was one of her kitchen knives. Taken from downstairs before I hid under the bed. Next to leave was my head and torso. That detail doesn’t matter though. It doesn’t change what’s yet to come.
Within seconds I was out from under the bed.
She’s shaking, a waterfall of tears streaming down her face. The sheer look of terror made my patience under the bed worth it.
3:36AM
I cover her mouth while I plunge the tip of the knife into her chest. It’s kind of ironic isn’t it?
I do it again.
Over and over again until I hear no more of her pleas or screams for help. I do it until she stops fighting and all I’m holding down is a still lifeless body, until nothing more than a mangled body and crimson colored pool on her mattress remains.
The sounds of torn flesh and her muffled screams are all I can hear even after she’s stopped screaming.
I admire the lifeless masterpiece in front of me. I look long and hard.
3:40AM
Mom I’m sorry. Dad I’m sorry too. Sorry that you’ll have to see this.
Looking back at the whole ordeal there were a few things I would’ve done differently.
First, I would’ve locked the doors when I had gotten home, I forgot to do that. I was just so tired.
Second, I would’ve looked behind me when I entered the house. Maybe then I would have seen him lurking and this whole mess could’ve been avoided.
Third, I would have told you not to leave your daughter home alone with a monster.