Father of the Year

"Can you keep a secret?" My father asks quietly, still staring out the window. I looked up at him confused for a minute.

"What is it, Dad? Are you sick?" I asked worriedly. The fear of losing yet another parent ever present in my shaky voice.

My father and I had just gotten back from my mother's funeral. She died from a freak car accident that was so brutal my father decided to have a closed casket. I can only imagine how my father must feel. As far as I knew growing up, my mother and father had never had problems. They were completely and totally in love, soulmates. Now that my mother is gone, I'm sure my father must feel that a part of him is gone.

"Your mother's death was not an accident." He said. As he looked at me, there was something in his eyes that I just couldn't place. I reached out and took my father's hand, clearly confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that your mother was murdered." My father sounded annoyed by my confusion. After he spoke, I stared at him in utter disbelief. It was like my brain wasn't processing what my father had just told me.

"Wh-what?" I sputtered. He sighed and stood up out of his chair.

My mother had been much older than my father. My father being in his mid-50s looked more like a 20-something with a receding hairline. He was fit and healthier than a horse. He gave me a smile that gave him a wicked gleam in his eye. "Follow me to the basement, my boy."

I slowly stood from the couch. As a child I had never been allowed into the basement. The fact that my father had asked me to follow him down there made me uneasy. Nevertheless, I followed him against my better judgement.

The basement was dark and there was an ungodly smell that came from it as soon as my father had opened the door. I immediately covered my nose with my hand, trying to mask the stench. My father started down the steps, unfazed by the smell. I didn't know how he could do it. Everything in my body was telling me to stay away.

"Come on, don't dawdle." My father waved for me to come down the stairs. I ignored all common sense and made my way down the stairs. The basement was still dark, but it was also cold and there was a sticky moisture in the air.

As my eyes started to adjust to the dark I could make out, what seemed to be hundreds of silhouettes. "D-dad?" My voice was becoming shaky as fear made my heart beat quicken. My father didn't reply to me and flipped on the light. I covered my mouth as a yelp escaped my throat as my eyes took in the horror in front of me.

Bodies of females of every skin color and age alike hung on giant meat hooks as if they were in a giant meat locker. Each one had been tortured to the point that they could no longer even be registered as human without tests. Different tools lay scattered on tables along the side walls covered in blood. Jars of human insides and even fetuses full of formaldehyde sat cleanly on shelves as if they were trophies.

I couldn't contain the contents of my stomach as I spun around and retched onto the floor. I coughed and sputtered. As I looked up at my father he was grinning from ear-to-ear, proud of his work. "How could you...?" I whispered, unsure of what to do or say.

"Your mother wouldn't listen. I told her not to come down here." He chuckled and shook his head. "She wouldn't have kept my secret, Johnathan. She was going to call the police." My father took a step towards me and I stumbled away.

"I had to do it. She wasn't going to keep my secret."

"Twenty-three years..." I muttered in disbelief. "I didn't know for twenty-three years that my father was a serial killer!"

My father laughed and shook his head. "Your mother hadn't known for thirty years. Would you like to see her, Johnathan?"

"S-see her?" I asked with fear. The longer this went on the more I realized that I was never leaving this room.

"Why yes, of course." My father hit a button and the tract of meat hooks started to move. One...two...three... I counted the bodies as they moved passed. It seemed that twenty bodies or more had passed before a familiar looking form became front and center. I held back more vomit as I stared at my mother's tortured and lifeless form. "Oh God..." I whimpered as my father just laughed to himself.

"You are just so proud." I muttered as my blood started to boil with anger. "You're a monster."

"No Johnathan, I rid the world of loud, big-mouthed women, who couldn't keep secrets. Your mother just had to face the consequences for her actions."

"That's why she had a closed casket..." I started putting the puzzle together faster and faster. The signs were all there. The only time I remembered my mother and father ever getting into a fight was because she thought he was cheating on her. My father had reassured my mother that he was doing no such thing. Of course, he was right. He was instead, capturing and killing these poor women.

My father looked at me with that same wicked smile and crazy gleam in his eye. "But you can keep a secret right, Johnathan?" The more my father spoke the crazier he sounded.

I slowly made my way up the stairs, hoping to make my escape to the Police Station. My father tsked at me and wiggled his finger. "You're doing the same thing your mother was doing, Johnathan. You can't keep a secret either, can you?"

I spun around and scrambled up the stairs. My father chased after me and managed to grab my foot, causing me to smack my face against the hard wooden stairs. I felt the blood instantly gush from my nose. I coughed and ignored the pain as I continued to struggle for my life. My father drug me back down the stairs and laughed maniacally. "Hey Johnathan? Can you keep a secret?" He asked as he raised a hammer over his head and before I could run, smashed my head with it.