My Dad is a Serial Killer

My dad is a serial killer.

It started when I kept getting new moms every month. I remembered some of them, mainly because they were kind, or super rude to me. I couldn’t remember my real mom, but the first three women that I could recognize weren’t easy to forget. They had beautiful blonde hair with bright blue eyes and they usually baked for me. Jen promised me that we would get ice cream on Sunday, but she disappeared on Saturday. Lora had the best cooking ever and when I told dad I wanted to eat her cook again, he sat me on his lap and said ‘Lora will never come back’. Libby? Nothing special about her, but I liked her lipstick so I usually sneaked to her room and stole it. When she disappeared, too bad I haven’t had a chance to ask what shade it is. The rest of the women felt like guests that I should call Mom. Strange, but I’m used to it.

Dad homeschooled me, so I thought other kids also experienced the same thing with me.

When I finally had my first friend, he introduced me to his family and we ate lunch together. His mom is beautiful; she can be my dad’s woman. Maybe after a month, when she’s done with this family, she can join mine.

But months after months passed by and she stayed still being my friend’s mom.

“Don’t you, like, have another mom?” I asked him one day.

“What do you mean?”

“You have the same mom for months.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I have so many.” I played his Gundam.

“Katya.”

“Laurie.”

“What do you mean you have so many moms?”

I looked at him and I met his confused face.

When I went home, I waited for my dad to come home before asking him. “Why Laurie only has one mom and I have many?”

Dad laughed. “Because our family is special.”

“He was confused when I told him.”

I could feel my dad stiffed and his eyes stared at me deeply. “Told him what?”

“That I have many moms.”

I knew I just said something wrong because dad’s soft face turned into something… sinister. It rarely happened though, he never really mad at me.

“Katya, baby.” He sat next to me and hugged me. “You can’t tell people that you have many moms.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he pulled me away to look me in the eyes. “If they knew, something terrible would happen to our family. We’re special, remember? People just don’t get it.” He paused. “They will take me away from you.”

I didn’t want to be away from him, so I cried and hugged him. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, so please, stop talking about it, okay?”

I nodded. I promised myself.

Laurie disappeared the next morning; I never met him again until we moved to another city.

Scariest thing happened in our new house. This place had a basement that dad turned into his office. I didn’t understand why he wanted to do his work in a dark, small room, but he said it was quiet down there; it helped him think. He, as usual, warned me to never go down because he didn’t want me to ruin his papers. As if I want to, duh.

One night I woke up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I decided to make a visit to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. When I arrived, the basement door was wide open and there was a bloody woman standing in front of it, crying. When she saw me, she ran to me and frantically said, ‘help me! Help me!’ I screamed. It woke dad up and he ran downstairs; his footsteps frighten the ghost woman that she sprinted to our back door and forced it to open. It locked. She screamed; I screamed; everything was chaotic. When dad saw us, he shouted, ‘go back to your room!’ and I wasted no time to run to the stairs. I turned my head one more time to the kitchen and I saw my dad kicked her down the basement stairs.

He took me to a therapist the next day and I told her I saw a ghost came out of my basement.

A few weeks later a police officer visited our house. It was the first time I saw real police so I offered him cookies that I baked following Lora’s old recipe. He smiled at me and took one before asking for my dad. I told him dad is out of town and will come back tomorrow. The officer said he will come back the next morning.

After he left, dad came out of the basement and took me to the ice cream shop. When we went back home he spent all night cleaning out our house.

My next encounter with his women was on our final day in this house. I knew at this moment that the police were after us. But if they thought I would let them take my dad then they were hallucinated.

The night before our moving day I was up late checking everything so I wouldn’t leave necessary things behind. Suddenly, I heard a digging sound came from our backyard. I dropped the box in my hands and made my way to the backdoor.

Dad was digging in the darkness; 3 big plastic bags lay next to the hole he’s making.

I opened the door and stepped out, walking toward him. He already made it deep enough so I told him to stop and push one human body in the plastic bag to the hole.

“You should get a flashlight so we know we cover it back neatly.”

He nodded and went inside.

I left alone with the rest 2 dead bodies and I pushed it down the hole quietly, staring at it for last time before they all buried forever.

“Bye, moms,” I whispered, covering it back with soil.