Every time Chris came into a room everyone hushed up. It was a kind of silent respect. Respect through fear - you could say. He had a very handsome face and his hair was perhaps a little longer than was the style at the time. Many students at Ridgeton Central resented him for one reason or another. He was a cruel boy - the teachers said.
 

Life was tough for Chris's little gang post- murder. They hadn't taken much about it into consideration before they beat Michael to death. To them, Michael only wanted to make their lives miserable. And when Mike regretfully ventured into the alley where they all happened to be loitering, Chris saw an opportunity to end a constant hassle.
 
 

POST MURDER

When Chris realized the severity of what he and his friends had done, he was hysterical. Twila insisted that he calm down when he threatened to go and tell the police. He ignored her and shoved her violently out of his way when she dared to block the exit. Now he walks the streets of Ridgeton. He just walked and walked, continually wiping at his tear stained face - he still had his pride. His hands gripped at his biceps and he lowered his head to spare others from his muderous contenance. He happened on a house he recognized, and he stopped just as he was about to pass it, coming to a sudden realization. It was Jason's house. What to do? Go in, of course. He had no idea what he was doing, or why he was doing it. And futhermore, exactly how could he look Jason Mandereck in the eye after he'd just brutally slaughtered his best friend. He didn't care. He felt it was the right thing to do. He reached the door, and closed his hand into a fist, paused a moment - thinking. Thinking about what the hell he was doing here. Then he figured it better not to think. Better just to do. But hadn't that, not thinking, been what had gotten him into this mess in the first place? He rapped loudly on the door with his fist, and then, out of respect, softened the blows on the old door. The screen door had a steel frame, and was in very poor shape. It was hanging on rusty hinges and didn’t align with the wooden door behind it. Paint was peeling off the main door, but that was almost a good thing - the paint was a hideous shade of green. Chris heard someone coming toward the door. He waited, and then heard someone fumbling with the locks. It sounded like there were many of them. Finally, the door was being pulled open - but it wasn't Jason behind it. Chris could tell that right away it was a woman. Then Chris remembered, he obviously had a lot on his mind, that Jason lived with his mother and her boyfriend, the infamous Dave Brooklyn. Chris desperately hoped Dave wasn’t around right now. Dave had nearly broken Chris's jaw the last time the two met. He couldn't believe he hadn't taken the fact that Dave might be around into consideration before he knocked. "Ah.. Dave's not around, is he?" Chris asked nervously. "Are you kidding?" came the reply, and Jason's mother stepped forward into the sun revealing the bruises on her cheeks, "After Miami loses and he takes out half of his anger on me, he likes to drown the other half in alcohol."