The Killer's Diary

   Sleep did not come to me easily that night in the cabin on the woods, for portraits on the wall only portrayed the deformed, the decrepit, and the damned. Sleep has never come easily to me ever again, for when I had woke I found no portraits, only a window. I was looking out of it, still waiting for my parents to come; my mom sent me in that place for a strange reason. I started singing alone to calm myself, listening to the deafening silence of the night while watching the leaves falling off the trees. The crows are gliding visibly above because of the brightness of the Moon. 

   I walked back to my bed and felt drowsy. The emptiness of the cabin has made the gas lamp as the only thing that could be seen. Subsequently, my mom came alone and tired. My fear of being left out has gone. But Dad wasn’t with her. 

   “He left earlier than me. I don’t know why he hasn’t arrived yet,” she uttered confusedly. She took out a pack of dinner, together with a bag of clothes which she carried from our old house. We ate our dinner together, it’s almost 11 o’clock. We’ve spent half of an hour eating and discussing our current problem, but there’s still no presence of my dad.

   I closed the window because of the strong winter breeze, it’s almost blow the light in our room. The night was getting deeper. We didn’t wait for too long and finally crawl into bed. We slept together until morning. 

*

   I was sleeping with my mom when a loud noise awakened me. The sun has not yet risen. I heard a disembodied voice from behind.

   “...are you horrified?...”

   I ghastly looked at my mom’s face as it turned gray, with a red mark engraved on her neck’s skin. Her lifeless body was lying on the bed while her eyes stared back at me. I looked at the window, which was strangely opened. There’s no someone out there. 

   I rang the police to investigate the incident. They said that there’s no sign that the window was forced to open. But they found a possible evidence: a half-pair of shoes worn by my dad. I do not know what happened, so they invited me to their station for further investigation. There, they questioned me about the incident. After I appeased them by my answers, they let me go.

   My dad didn’t show up even after what happened to Mom. I was left wondering if he’s really the suspect, or the same killer also hacked him on his way to the cabin. I asked the police officers if they could also find him. I hope he’s still alive.

*

   I didn’t return to the woods. The killer would probably wait for my arrival there. I opted it would be best to rent an apartment room near the city; it seems like it’s been long since the old tenant has left. Nearly everything in this room was filled with dust and cobweb: the walls, ceiling, and the furnitures. There’s an old, dusty cabinet placed near the wooden door. I feel tired because of what happened, I still haven’t got a lot of sleep since yesterday. The landlord reminded me to lock my door before he left.

   I fell asleep as soon as I lay on that bed. It was facing the wall filled with old, dusty portraits—which made it somber; each of them was framed with steel. I thought I wouldn’t be haunted in my dreams anymore. The rain wailed all throughout the night and lightning frolicked around. After a few minutes, I could feel someone’s coldly gazing at me. It made me jump out of my bed and turn on the lamp. I immediately took a notebook and pen. I started scribbling my last message, thinking that someone would murder me, too. Suddenly, the lamp flickered. I felt someone’s hand was on my back. Its cold touch left my spine quivering. 

   “Are you horrified?” said a familiar, soft-spoken voice.

   As I slowly turned around, a ghastly sight stared back at me. I saw a figure. I doubt it be a person. His head was sacked, and his shirt was covered in blood. He has a quite blurry appearance, as though there’s a misted glass between us. 

   “Who — you must be a — a ghost!” I gasped in horror at the sight of him.

   “It’s been a long time,” he responded.

   “It was you — you murdered my mom that night in the Cabin. Why did you kill her?” I asked uncertainly. I stood up from my chair, still looking at his terrifying figure. He cackled and sat down upon my bed.

   “It wasn't me. It was the one you thought was the best person in your life,” he exclaimed. I knew that time he was pertaining to my dad, that’s why he accidentally left a half-pair of his shoe in the cabin. But why would he kill my mom? I was left puzzled. Eventually, I heard someone knocking on my door. I was thinking if it was the landlord, who’s about to check if I locked the door. I slowly turned the knob and opened it.

   “D-Dad? Why — Why are you here?” I glanced back to my bed. The ghost has already gone. I didn’t know what to do. I slowly stepped back, started to feel dizzy.

   Armed with a dagger, my dad walked slowly towards me. He didn’t say a single word. I didn’t know what I’m supposed to do that time. I was hopeless. There’s no one else there who could help me.

   He continued to saunter into the room. As he approached me, one of the portraits suddenly flew to his head. He dropped his dagger to the ground. I immediately pushed him and took the dagger. I thrust my hand forward, tore his throat apart, made a fountain of crimson substance in his neck. I gave him an evil smirk before he closed his eyes. After a loud, menacing laugh, I stabbed him again, dragging the blade to his stomach side-to-side. The last deep and evil stab was to his heart.

   After that, the ghost suddenly appears. I was shocked and horrified of what I’ve done.

   “I-I killed my dad...” I said in a brittle voice.

   “We did,” he replied. My face was filled with confusion. “You were in my possession. We’ve killed your father to avenge my death.” 

   “But I did that because of what he has done to my mom! I’m a kind person. I don’t have any intention to kill,” I snarled, still looking up at his bloodied figure.

   “It was the one you thought was the best person in your life. You think you’re a kind person, but there’s someone hiding inside of yourself,”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You were the one who killed your mom, too. I chased your father when he saw you strangling your mother with a rope. That’s the reason a half-pair of his shoes was left at the Cabin, and why the window mysteriously opened.”

   I didn’t expect that I was the one who will respond to my thinking when I thought my dad was killed by a killer. But now it became real: he's dead, lying in front of me. 

   I stood up and toddled slowly like a month-old infant. I continued to write my message in that book that served as my own diary. If someone will manage to read this, please don’t trust yourself at all times.