I Have Evidence My College Covered Up A Murder

I’m a criminal justice major at a very prestigious school which I won’t be naming due to the sensitive nature of the information I’m going to disseminate. I will be changing names to protect myself and those who may be involved. Until I have solid proof, it would not be wise to start any trouble or ruffle any feathers. If I’m right about everything then there are powerful forces involved that would not want this information getting out into the public. I know they wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate any threats to their sphere of control.
It all started with an unplanned trip to the college bookstore. Before you start off thinking I’m an idiot, I know books at school stores are overpriced and they’re cheaper online. This particular book I had to buy was a required reading for my class since it was written by the professor teaching the course. It’s only available at the school’s book store. I found a used copy and bought it home.
Flipping through the pages, I noticed that there wasn’t any writing or highlighting in it. The only evidence that the book had been in someone else’s possession was a folded piece of paper stuffed between the pages. I hoped it was a study guide or a cheat sheet. Instead it turned out to be something sinister. Something that would lead me down a road I never wanted to go

It was a letter and this is what it said:
________________________________________________________________________________________
Ear piercing, soul shaking screaming drowned out whatever Ronda babbled on about. She kept smiling and carrying on about spending the rest of our lives together as if I we’d planned this. How fucking hard is it to remember to swallow a pill that stops you from getting knocked up? If there was a male birth control pill, you can be sure as fuck that accidental pregnancy would disappear from the Earth. Now I’m stuck footing the bill for it.
I never thought I’d end up in this position. I’d been warned about it by you and all the coaches but I didn’t take it serious. I’m an idiot for that. Everyone always told me to beware the intentions of women throwing themselves at me. They always want the alpha dog.

You remember how many girls I dated high school? You couldn’t keep track of all their names. Hell, I barely could either. They lined up around the block for a chance to get in on my action. But least the high school girls had enough sense not to get pregnant. They saw my potential and didn’t want to ruin my life.

The screaming got unbearable while I heard her saying that she wants to get married right away. She was worried about her family of religious nutbags finding out she hadn’t been a good Christian girl.
Do you wanna know what the football team called her? I think you’ll get a kick outta this. I wonder what her daddy would think if he knew. The football teamed called her “Goldiecocks” because all you saw were those blonde pigtails of hers bobbing up and down while she went from bed to bed to find one that was just right for the night. Not to mention she loved the man porridge, if you know what I mean. I wonder how my never-going-to-happen future father-in-law would feel about that one. It’s funny how now that she’s knocked up, she’s worried about being seen as whore.
It wasn’t a problem while she was railing the entire football team. I guess it’s because she’s going to be a mother and hopes to be a wife soon. But as the saying goes, you can’t turn a hoe into a housewife, so there’s no chance I’d ever take the plunge with her.
But I’m not stupid despite what people may think about me. Her plan was easy to figure out. Get impregnated by the only player with guaranteed success and have access to millions of dollars for the rest of her life. If I’m stupid enough to marry her, that is. If plan A failed, child support would be a sufficient payout for taking care of my bastard and the beta bitch pussy whipped enough to marry her. She’d be entitled to 18 years of legal extortion. Can you believe that shit? I didn’t know extortion was legal in America. All it would take to bring me down would be a paternity test. It’s as good as putting the nails into my coffin.

She kept spewing on about spending the rest of our lives. I stopped listening when my life flashed before my eyes. Every painful injury, every drop of blood I lost on the field, and every single sacrifice I’ve made to reach this point was a waste now. There was no way in Hell I was going to marry this bitch and there’s no way in Hell I’m going to be paying her child support. The only option was clear to me now.

The silence was refreshing after I told Rhonda to shut the fuck up.
“You are having an abortion and that’s final,” I said telling her how it is and how it goes. Her reaction was exactly as I expected. She was flabbergasted that I demanded her to commit a mortal sin against the word of her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, amen. There was no way she was going to kill my bastard. It was her meal ticket. She stormed out of my room and slammed the door behind her.
And ever since she slammed that door, things haven’t been the same. The baby screams didn’t stop. I heard them in the middle of the night while I tried to sleep. My professor’s lectures are drowned out by the shrieks in my ear. It just screams and screams and screams all day long. There’s no shutting it up. There’s no break from that unborn bastard. The only thing I could do was cry right along with it.
I begged it to stop. I pleaded promising to marry Rhonda and give it the best life it could have. I begged forgiveness for suggesting that we kill it. Nothing stopped it. I couldn’t take it anymore and I went into a rage. I screamed until my throat was raw and pounded the walls trying to shut the fucking kid up. Then there was a knock on my door. I figured someone must have made a noise complaint and the RA came to check up on it.

I opened the door and a blast of screams ruptured my eardrums. They were deafening the moment the RA opened his mouth. His lips moved and there was a look of concern on his face that turned into panic. He stepped away from the door but the scrawny bastard was nothing for me. I shoulder tackled him to the ground and wrapped my hands around his throat. The screams stopped for the first time since Rhonda told me she was with child.
I let him go from my grasp only for a second and the silence was broken again by the crying of the baby that sounded like it was being amplified by a million speakers in my skull. I tightened my grip on his throat again and this time I heard the choking sounds coming from the advisor struggling for air. It was the most angelic sound on Earth compared to the kid. I didn’t even care that he hit me with his puny arms. I couldn’t feel a thing.
The silence lasted only until the life in his eyes disappeared and they rolled into the back of his head. His tongue hung out of his mouth as if it was still trying to beg for his life. The baby’s screeches came back but not as loud as before. I dragged his body into my room and closed the door behind me making sure no one had spotted us. The hallways were clear. I looked down at my hands and then at his body realizing what I had done. The squeals intensified and I trembled knowing that they would get worse.
I jumped into the shower and turned the water on the hottest setting it could go. It burned my skin but I didn’t care. The pain dulled the sound of the crying. I would endure the physical pain if it allowed me a moment of peace. I thought of my hands around the RA’s throat and the look in his dead eyes. I puked up my dinner and fell to my knees in the scorching hot water. I wanted to explode. I wanted to thrash and destroy everything around me. I cursed the RA for bothering me. I cursed myself for losing control of my life to someone as disgusting as Rhonda. She ruined everything. I wished with the entire core of my being that I killed Rhonda instead.
The squeals stopped when I pictured myself wrapping my hands around her throat and squeezing like I did the RA. I imagined her trying to convince me to release her telling me that she’s the mother of my child. I relished the thought of seeing her eyeballs pop out of her skull while she tried with all her might to take a breath. The greatest satisfaction would come from stomping on her stomach until the God forsaken crying stopped forever. Oh the sweet relief that would come!
I jumped out of the shower and changed into some fresh clothes. All the while I kept thinking about killing Rhonda, there was sweet silence to be had. Everything was clear now. I saw the RA’s body on the floor still contorted in its final moments of life. If anyone found out about this, I’d be thrown in jail forever. I reconsidered going after Rhonda, and as you can imagine, a tide wave of screams tore across my ears. There was no way around it, she needed to die.
That’s when I wrote this letter to you. I didn’t want to call or email since those could be traced. I need your help in this. I don’t know who else I could turn to that would help me. I told you everything so that you know what to expect if you decide to help me. We don’t have to talk about it when you get here. Just please help me, Dad.
________________________________________________________________________________________
After reading through the letter, I thought it was a creative writing assignment for a class. Someone wrote a horror story trying to be the next Stephen King. I thought the story was alright but I felt it was overly dramatic with the football player mentioning the screaming and yelling of the kid who wasn’t born every other sentence. Not the best I ever read but not the worst.

Whoever wrote it must have misplaced their assignment in the wrong book and sold it back to the store without realizing their story was still inside. I folded the letter and placed it back in the book. It would be a fun little surprise for the next person that bought that book after I returned it to the store.
With the start of the semester, the letter faded from my memory as I was swamped with school work and other obligations. I didn’t think there was more to the story until one late night visit to the student dining hall.
As I entered, a blonde woman with pigtails walked out pushing a little boy in a stroller. I made eye contact with her and my gut told me I knew who this woman. Maybe I’d seen her around campus or at the supermarket. It didn’t hit me until the boy in the stroller started crying up a storm. It was a high pitched cry that echoed throughout the entire student center. A couple of students gave her a dirty look. She gave them an apologetic smile back that didn’t match the defeated look in her eyes. That’s when I remembered the letter in my textbook. That woman was Rhonda.
I must have looked like a real creeper with my jaw on the floor and my eyes fixated on her. She looked terrified and pushed the stroller away quickly. The baby’s cries echoed through the building until they were heard no more.
I’d forgotten all about my appetite and hurried back to my room. I pulled the letter out of the book and re-read it.

That night I began researching the rest of the story to see if any more of it was true. I wish I hadn’t done that now. I wish I had left everything alone.

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