The Fadeyis were all present in the dining room, which was close to the living room, having their breakfast—bread and eggs resting on the table. The sounds from the TV filled the space, loud and clear, yet Linda's thoughts drowned them out. She barely took a bite of her food, her mind swirling with the nightmare she had in the middle of the night. She couldn't help but ponder its significance.
"Could it be that my parents did something terrible in the past that made someone seek revenge?" she wondered.
The detective's unexpected visit the other day had raised her suspicions. She had overheard her parents talking about it, and returning home from school to find police officers strategically positioned around their house made everything even clearer—someone was after her parents' lives. Maybe even hers.
A chilling thought settled in her mind: What if my parents are keeping a secret from me? Something dark from their past?
Just then, a voice pulled her out of her thoughts—something even the TV noise hadn't been able to do.
"Why aren't you eating, dear? Is something wrong?"
She recognized the voice immediately—it was her mother. Linda looked up, meeting her mother's concerned gaze, worry evident on her face.
"Mom, I had a terrible dream..."
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," her mother said gently, her warm eyes trying to comfort Linda.
"It was just a nightmare. Don't let it trouble you too much. You've barely touched your food. At least try to eat something before going to school." Mr. Fadeyi, who had been silent until now, spoke in a calm tone, though concern was clear in his expression.
"I will, Dad, but this dream wasn't like any other nightmare I've had before. It was different—so vivid, so real." She swallowed hard before continuing. "You both died… right in front of me. I saw you suffering. It was horrifying, gory. You can't even imagine what that psycho in my dream did to you. He wore a skull mask, and when I asked why he was doing it, he said, You already have an idea why. But I don't! It doesn't make any sense to me!"
She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "Mom… Dad… did you do something in the past? Something so terrible that someone would want revenge? I know our lives are in danger. That's why the police are standing outside as guards. And I heard you talking about the detective too. Why don't you ever tell me things like this? Are you hiding something from me?"
Her voice quivered, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
"No, sweetheart," Mrs. Fadeyi said softly, a sad expression crossing her face. "It's not like that. We just didn't want you to worry too much. If your mind is troubled, it could affect your studies."
Linda looked at her father. He had gone silent—cold and distant. His expression had changed, and she could tell his mind was racing.
"What is he thinking about? Why does he look like that?"
She decided to snap him out of it. "Dad, you seem lost. Are you thinking about the serial killer case? I know it's been bothering you… and Mom too."
Mr. Fadeyi exhaled deeply, then finally spoke, his voice filled with conviction. "Don't worry, dear. The famous Genuis detective is handling this case. God will use him to ensure our safety. So stop worrying, alright? And forget about the nightmare. Sometimes, dreams reflect our deepest fears. Don't let them control you."
Something about his words—his unwavering confidence—calmed Linda's nerves. She considered what he said, and a sense of ease washed over her.
Seeing the tension leave her daughter's face, Mrs. Fadeyi smiled. "Now, finish your food, or you'll be late for school."
Linda returned the smile. "Sure, Mom."
She then picked up her fork and continued eating, her mind at peace. At least for now.
****
Hahahaha… Hahahaha…How wonderful! How glorious! Things are just getting more fun for me. I spent so much time racking my brain for a plan, only for the perfect one to fall right into my hands—wide open, waiting. Is this fate at work, or am I just lucky?
I never expected I would have to resort to such extreme measures to accomplish my goal. Of course, I always knew things might get cumbersome at some point. I even anticipated having to put my skills as an artist to proper use. And now, that time has come. My volunteer is here, seated right in front of me.
Mister, can I really say you volunteered to be part of my plan? After all, you came to me freely. And I'm not the kind of man to let an opportunity go to waste.
Oh, I almost forgot—you can't talk. Not after I had all your teeth removed.
Well, I must thank you for all the useful information you've given me, though I did have to torture it out of you. How unfortunate. How disheartening.
I know what you must be thinking. "If I had known, I would have listened to my superiors." But there's no need to beat yourself up over it. You did the right thing. You helped me bring my plan to fruition.
Now, let's see… this pendant of yours. This must be your family, engraved inside. How lovely. They seem happy here. But will they be happy without you?
I suppose not. But they'll learn to live without you. Hopefully, they won't forget you.
Your wife looks quite young, though. There's a possibility she might remarry after your demise. Considering her beauty, men will be lining up for her. Even I could consider it… but fret not, I have no such intentions. I doubt you'd rest peacefully in your grave knowing I had taken your place beside her.
Am I wrong? Why are you looking at me like that? As if I would harm them?
Relax. I have no reason to send them to their maker. At least, from where I stand, you're the only one going.
You should be happy, though. You'll be the first manifestation of my art. The first stroke on the canvas of chaos I'm about to create.
Now, tell me—how do you want to die? That's the only reward I can offer for your help. Actually, you've given me not just one, but two invaluable assists. So, tell me one more time, before I get to work—how would you like to die?
I imagine no one prefers a painful death. Most would choose something quick, painless. Initially, I considered giving you something slow, something agonizing. But then I thought—why not be merciful? Why not be grateful?
A bullet to the head seems like the most considerate option, don't you think? Just nod. I already know you can't speak.
Hah. It seems I've gone insane—asking a man without teeth how he wants to die. Hahahaha…
Once again, thank you for your invaluable help. I truly appreciate it. Now, it's time to say goodbye to this world. Maybe, if we meet again in hell, you'll find a way to avenge your death.