Jimmy heard the waves crash against the sand; the tide was coming in. His heart was pounding in his head; he had been running for so long, his pulse was racing and he could feel the rush of adrenaline in every nerve in his body.
“Am I safe yet?" Jimmy thought to himself. There was something moving off to the right of him; he could hear something behind him, the faint scratching of sand against stone. He turned; it was only a crab.
He thought about his brother, which only brought up more hazy memories. “Jerry is making me so paranoid.”



“Anyone would be paranoid if they were being stalked by the guy who may have killed their parents.” A voice inside his head responded above the ringing in his ears.



Voices sounded from down the beach as families upon families making their way out of their cars, laughing and chatting loudly as they made their way onto the glittering sand, shattering the pure, untouched beauty of the morning sunrise.



“Here I am on a beach, standing around feeling sorry for myself. I should be out there enjoying my summer.” Jimmy thought to himself.




“If your jerk of a brother hadn’t shown up trying to clear his name, you might have been able to.” The empty voice in his mind echoed and bounced around in his head, repeating itself.



Jimmy still had dreams sometimes, or sudden flashbacks of the murder. He was only three when it happened, so he couldn’t remember any of the fine details, but he was there the whole time, huddled on the couch in the corner of the living room, untouched by the killer. The murderer must have had his plan set, if he didn’t even lay a finger on the only witness.



“Or maybe he just cares too much about you.” The hollow, emotionless voice in his head reminded him. Whenever Jimmy thought about his parents, he could still hear his mother, Jane, screaming and pleading with her killer, her own son, the killer. Jimmy remembered the loud bangs of the gun that drove two bullets into Jane’s chest, one into her stomach, and one into her skull. Then the last explosion of the final shot,that missed her and hit the floor as Jane crumpled to her knees, a bloody, mutilated corpse of an innocent, caring woman. The shots would haunt Jimmy forever, especially when he knew his own mother was the victim. Shortly after, he remembered the shouts of Jerry and their father, Joe, as Joe tried to wrestle the gun away from Jerry; the shatter of glass as the firearm was flung through the window. They continued their fighting until Jerry ended it with the sound of Joe’s skull cracking as he was hit over the head with a golf club, pulled from his own golf bag. There was a muffled metallic clink as the golf club fell onto the rug and rolled to the hardwood floor. Then, came the low tones of a deep voice, softly reciting a prayer for the dead. Seconds after, the faucet was turned on, squeaking from a rusty bolt that had been neglected to be oiled, as the killer washed the blood from his hands and face, scrubbing hard to get the signs of the crime out, as if to forget what he had done.



Even so, Jimmy sensed no regret as the man stood over the couch where Jimmy was huddled, and pulled the blanked over Jimmy’s head. He caught a glimpse of the killer’s eyes right before he was plunged into total darkness under the blanket. The eyes were so cold and gray, showing no emotion, remorse, or even grief. Those were the eyes Jimmy could never forget.
If only Jimmy could remember his brother’s face, the case might finally be solved, but there was not a picture or home movie to be found. His brother disappeared shortly after the murder and must have changed his name and appearance, since the authorities said they were unable to find anyone with the given information. His parents murder may never be solved, and it was truly terrifying that the only memories of them he had were at their final moments. Jimmy had heard a few rumors about his brother though, that his brother committed suicide, with just another bang of a gunshot that would echo on and on until it ceased to exist anywhere but in a memory.