I picked up a kitchen knife, its cold weight pressing against my palm. In the dim kitchen light, the hatred etched across my face was impossible to hide.
With measured steps, I walked to where my parents lay. I stopped in front of them, staring down at their still forms.
Raising the knife high, I aimed it at their hearts.
The first strike sent blood splattering across my face. Warm and sticky, it clung to my skin, but I felt nothing—no hesitation, no sadness. Only the grim satisfaction of justice.
When their final breaths faded into silence, I knelt briefly to confirm they were gone.
Satisfied, I turned my gaze to Elysia.
Her face was flushed with anger and terror, her bloodshot eyes wide with panic. She trembled, attempting to move, but her drugged body betrayed her. She could do nothing but pant heavily, trapped like a cornered animal awaiting slaughter.
Looking at her pathetic state, my hatred surged, threatening to consume me.
Why? Why does the one who caused all this get to live so easily?
Tears blurred my vision, spilling unchecked down my cheeks.
Gripping the knife tighter, I approached her. I raised the blade again, this time aiming for her legs.
The moment the blade made contact, a scream tore through the air before she fainted from the sheer agony.
One minute. That’s all it took to sever her legs completely.
Blood sprayed violently, painting the walls in grotesque crimson streaks, a chaotic masterpiece of vengeance.
I stood amidst the carnage, the sound of my own ragged breathing filling the room. But it wasn’t enough.
Hatred burned hotter, urging me forward.
I slashed her face twice, the knife carving deep, jagged wounds. Her once-pristine skin peeled back, revealing raw flesh beneath. The satisfaction was fleeting, but it dulled the edge of my fury.
The tip of the knife hovered at her chest. Slowly, it slid downward.
The thought of cutting open her heart pulsed through me, growing stronger with every passing second.
But just as I was about to surrender entirely to the darkness, a sound pierced through the haze of my rage—the faint cry of my daughter from the other room.
Reality crashed back, like a wave dousing a roaring flame.
I stood frozen, the knife trembling in my hand. My breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, reason clawed its way back into my mind.
My daughter.
Her innocent face flashed in my thoughts, cutting through the torrent of hate.
To ensure there were no survivors, I returned to check one last time.
My heart twisted as I found my daughter, lifeless in her crib. She had passed long ago after drinking the milk powder I prepared.
After all, she was my daughter. I gave her mercy—a painless escape from this cruel world.
I cradled her cold, fragile body for a moment, a flood of emotions surging through me. But there was no turning back. Placing her gently back in her crib, I walked away, resolute.
Returning to the living room, I opened the door wide to let the stench of blood dissipate into the air outside. The metallic tang hung heavily, but I had grown numb to it.
I called the police.
Before they arrived, I turned my attention back to Elysia. With what strength I had left, I made sure her body bore traces of the sins I wanted her punished for. When exhaustion overtook me, I dropped the knife and slumped onto the sofa.
My gaze fell on the fruit plate my mother had prepared before she died. How ironic. I ate each piece slowly, savoring the bitter sweetness of her final gesture.
The last slice was still in my mouth when the police burst through the door.
They rushed to Elysia, barely clinging to life, and whisked her off to the hospital. The house swarmed with officers, taking photos and gathering evidence.
If I weren’t their son, this would have been called a massacre—a tragedy that nearly wiped out an entire family.
Outside, the neighbors gathered, their voices a cacophony of anger and disbelief.
“I saw his mother buying vegetables this morning, and now she’s dead by noon. Killed by her own son—what kind of monster does that?”
“A beast, that’s what! Even animals don’t harm their own. His parents gave him everything, and this is how he repays them!”
“And his wife? Poor woman. I remember attending their wedding and eating their candy. Now he’s crippled her. What kind of evil man does this?”
I left the drugs out on the table, making no attempt to hide anything. The evidence painted a damning picture, all pointing squarely at me.
The officers turned to me, eyes burning with contempt. One stepped forward, his voice dripping with accusation.
“What was your motive? Why did you do this? They were your parents! And your daughter—just a month old! How could you?”
The weight of their questions pressed down on me, but I said nothing.
The drugs had worn off, and a searing pain shot through my body. I collapsed to the floor, curling into myself as cold sweat drenched my skin.
The officer closest to me sneered, kicking me lightly as if testing my reaction.
“Cut the act! Don’t even think about playing games with me. The evidence is airtight. Spill the truth!”
Before I could respond, another officer searching the room found something. He held up a document, his eyes scanning it quickly before freezing in place.
“This man…” he said, his voice faltering. “He has advanced bone cancer.”
The crowd exchanged bewildered glances before one voice broke through, seething with indignation:
"What does advanced bone cancer have to do with it? Not having much time left doesn’t justify killing your parents and daughter!"
Another chimed in, their tone laced with venom:
"Exactly! If he’s going to die soon, let’s just put a bullet in him now. No need to let him leave this world peacefully!"
"Anyone who murders their own family deserves the harshest punishment. A beast like him doesn’t deserve to live!"
Their accusations pierced the air like daggers, but I finally managed a weak breath and whispered:
"I plead guilty. I’ve never tried to escape or deny what I’ve done. I admit everything. I’ll even tell you my motive... but I need to see Elysia first."
The words had barely left my lips when a young officer stormed toward me, his face twisted in fury.
"You murderer! You’re in no position to ask for anything! Just tell us your motive and stop wasting time!"
Before he could come any closer, an older officer grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Calm down. Let him speak. He doesn’t seem mentally unstable. He didn’t try to run after committing these murders, so there’s probably more to this than we think."
The young officer hesitated, his jaw tight with resentment. "You’re saying he has a valid reason for wiping out his own family? What could possibly justify that?"
"Revenge," the older officer said quietly, his gaze fixed on me. "It’s got to be revenge."
For the first time, I felt a flicker of something close to acknowledgment. I met the older officer’s eyes, impressed by his intuition.
He was right. The motive wasn’t simple.
It had taken me 25 long years to uncover the truth—a truth so dark it had consumed me entirely.
When the officer finally agreed to my request, I let out a sigh of relief. The tension in my body eased just enough for the overwhelming exhaustion to take over. I collapsed to the ground, consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers.
In my dream, I was transported back to my childhood.
I stood in a tiny walker, clutching a Transformer in my small hands.
My parents trailed behind me, their faces lit with warm smiles.
For a fleeting moment, our family seemed perfect—like the happy ending of a story.
But the dream shifted. The warmth faded, replaced by my mother’s cold, indifferent voice:
"If you’re sick, you’re sick. Who doesn’t get sick? Stop making a fuss. No need to check. Trust me—I’ll find a doctor to see you at home."
My reply was cautious, almost pleading:
"Mom, I’m really in pain..."
"Mom, why have you changed so much since getting married?"
...
Suddenly, ice-cold water splashed onto my face, jolting me awake.
When I opened my eyes, I was being wheeled into a hospital corridor. My body ached, and my mind was clouded, but the cold voice of a policeman cut through the haze:
"Elysia is in there," he said, pointing to the intensive care unit. "Look at what you’ve done to her. Look at what you’ve cut her into!"
His tone grew harsher. "She hasn’t woken up yet, so how can she talk to you? You’ve seen her now like you wanted—so tell us your motive!"
I dragged myself toward the glass door of the ward, each step heavy with exhaustion. Through the glass, I saw Elysia’s pale, lifeless face on the bed.
Quietly, I shook my head. "I’ll only tell Elysia. If I wanted her dead, I would’ve killed her at home."
I didn’t want her to die. I wanted her to live—to bear the truth and suffer its weight for the rest of her life.
"You—!"
The policeman’s face turned crimson with fury. His anger made him lunge forward as if to drag me away, but his superior intervened.
"Get a grip," the captain barked, pushing the enraged officer aside. He sighed and turned to another officer. "Find the doctor. Ask when Elysia will wake up—or if there’s any way to wake her sooner."
I stood there, still as stone, waiting.
Perhaps it was divine irony—or fate’s cruel hand—but just as the officer left, Elysia’s eyes fluttered open.
The door to the ward creaked open, and she slowly turned her head toward the sound.
When her eyes locked onto mine, they burned with a hatred so fierce it felt like it could pierce through me.
"Thaddeus," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You killed your parents? Are you insane?"
Her words came sharper, dripping with venom. "They treated you so well! How could you? How could you live with yourself?"
Her anger swelled, and she tried to lunge at me, to strangle me, to end me. But her legs—her severed legs—failed her. She collapsed forward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
Seeing her in that pitiful state, a bitter sense of satisfaction surged through me. My heart raced with the dark pleasure of revenge.
Tears streamed down my face, yet I laughed uncontrollably, my body shaking with raw, twisted emotion.
"Elysia," I said, my voice cold and cutting. "What right do you have to say that to me? What identity do you use to lecture me about loyalty?"
