The Young Psychopath

TRUCE

Mr. Tomas crawled across the floor, his body dragging through the gasoline Tracy had poured. His eyes were wide with terror as he reached desperately for a gun lying just out of reach. Tracy stood by the door, a chilling smile on her face, holding a matchstick over a lit match lighter, her fingers ready to strike. As she hummed a familiar tune, the same one she always hummed before doing something terrible, Mr. Tomas continued his hopeless crawl toward the door.

Two days earlier, on a Friday evening, Tracy sat on the living room rug playing with her doll, her back to the TV. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room. "Mum! Peter won't give me my iPod!" Rose's voice rang out from the hallway as she tried to grab the device from her brother's hands.

Mrs. Evelyn, who had been reading on the couch, lowered her book and sighed. "Peter, give it back to your sister," she called, her tone weary. Peter stuck his tongue out at Rose before tossing the iPod onto the sofa and running upstairs. Tracy, oblivious to the sibling squabble, continued playing with her doll.

Outside, a shadow passed the window, catching Tracy's attention. She glanced up but didn't care enough to investigate. It was only when she heard a cat's meow that she stood, intrigued. At the window, she saw a black-and-white striped cat with piercing green eyes walking across the lawn. "I hate cats," Tracy whispered to herself.

She watched as the cat wandered into the neighboring yard, its tail swaying lazily. Tracy looked back at her family—Mrs. Evelyn had fallen asleep, her book resting on her chest, and Rose had her headphones on, lost in her music. Peter was nowhere to be seen. Tracy slipped out of the house.

In the neighbor's yard, she found the cat lounging by a fence. Without hesitation, Tracy picked up a stone, large enough for her small hands to grip tightly, and approached the cat. She petted it softly, her touch gentle. But when the cat closed its eyes in comfort, she brought the stone down on its head. The cat yowled, then went still after the second blow. Tracy hit it again, and again, until its skull was shattered.

She heard a gasp and looked up. Ben, the neighbor's son, stood frozen in shock, watching her. Without a word, Tracy wiped her hands on her dress and walked back home, leaving the bloodied stone behind.

Later that evening, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Evelyn, startled awake, got up to answer it. Mr. and Mrs. Tomas stood on the porch, their son Ben behind them. "Good evening, Evelyn," Mr. Tomas said, his voice tense. "We need to talk about something."

Mrs. Evelyn invited them in, offering them a seat and asking if they'd like anything to drink. Mr. Tomas declined. "My son told us something disturbing," he began. "He said he saw your daughter...killing our cat."

Mrs. Tomas shuddered and wiped her eyes as Ben nodded in confirmation. Mrs. Evelyn, stunned, looked at Tracy, who was back to playing with her doll on the rug. "Tracy, is this true?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Tracy looked up, first at her mother, then at the Tomas family, and finally at Ben. She smiled slightly and nodded. Mrs. Evelyn, horrified, ordered Tracy to her room for the weekend. Tracy's face twisted in anger as she stomped upstairs.

The next morning, at 2 a.m., unable to sleep, Tracy snuck out of the house and made her way to the Tomas residence. She used a hairpin to unlock the front door and slipped inside. The house was quiet, the Tomas family asleep. Tracy wandered the rooms until she heard a distant siren. Panicking, she rushed back to her own home, closing the door behind her just as a police car pulled up outside the Tomas house.

A police officer knocked on the door. Mr. Tomas answered, groggy but concerned. "Sir, we received an alert about a security breach at this address," the officer explained. Mr. Tomas looked around, confused, but assured the officer that everything was fine. The officer left, but not before casting a suspicious glance at Tracy's window, where she stood watching.

Now, back in the present, Tracy stood over Mr. Tomas as he crawled across the floor, bleeding and broken. His daughter's lifeless body lay nearby, her face mutilated by the hot iron Tracy had used earlier. The house reeked of gasoline. Mr. Tomas, his legs useless after Tracy had severed his tendons, reached for the gun.

A day earlier, on Saturday night, Tracy had executed the first part of her plan. After Mrs. Evelyn left for work, she crept into the Tomas house again, disabling the alarm system this time. She set the gas stove on high, intending to burn the house down with the family inside. But when the police arrived again, she hid, waiting until they left to continue her grim work.

Now, everything was coming to an end. Mr. Tomas's family was gone, and he was moments away from joining them. Tracy watched him struggle, amused by his desperation.

With a flick of her wrist, Tracy struck the match and tossed it onto the gasoline-soaked floor. Flames erupted, engulfing Mr. Tomas before he could reach the gun. As his body burned, Tracy turned and walked out the door. From her bedroom window, she watched the Tomas house burn to the ground, her doll cradled in her arms, a smile on her face.