The Young Psychopath

A SIMPLE MISUNDERSTANDING

Mrs. Evelyn, realizing she was seated at the dinner table,  sees her kids on the dining seats. They were all holding utensils and an empty plate in front of each of them.  Rose was crying in the background, Mrs. Evelyn calls onto Peter. "Peter! Rose!!," she said, continuing to feel dizzy, but Peter remained silent. She asked again, but still no response. Mrs. Evelyn looked up from the plate on the table in front of her, and her heart stopped. Blood was trickling from Peter's mouth, eyes, and ears.

"Peter! Peter!" she screamed, dropping her utensils and rushing over to him. As she touched his face, his head rolled off his shoulders and hit the floor with a sickening thud. Horrified, Mrs. Evelyn stumbled back, tears streaming down her cheeks. "PETER!"

"Peter's not going to hear you," a calm voice came from the other end of the table. Mrs. Evelyn turned and saw Rose standing there, staring coldly.

"Rose... Why did you do this?" Mrs. Evelyn's voice trembled, broken by the sight of her decapitated son. Rose took a step forward, then another, her face emotionless, but with each step, Mrs. Evelyn noticed something horrific: a knife was lodged in Rose's chest.

"Rose, what have you done to yourself?" Mrs. Evelyn gasped, too confused to make sense of the nightmare before her. Rose took one final step before collapsing to the floor, lifeless.

"Oh, poor Rose," another voice whispered. Mrs. Evelyn spun around, only to find herself face to face with Tracy, laughing quietly.

Suddenly, everything went dark. Mrs. Evelyn jolted awake, gasping for air, her heart racing. She found herself tied to a chair in Peter's room. Gagged and bound, her mind was still haunted by the vivid dream of her children's deaths. It took her a moment to realize she was awake. She frantically scanned the room and saw Rose and Peter sitting upright on the bed, looking at her.

The door creaked open, and Tracy walked in, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh, you're awake. I thought you wanted me to wake you when it was time for the game," Tracy said nonchalantly.

A heavy silence filled the house, broken only by the faint sounds of breathing. Tracy, bored and restless, decided to stir things up. She walked over to Peter, pulled him off the bed by the elbow, and untied his legs. "Come on," she muttered, leading him downstairs to the kitchen.

Mrs. Evelyn struggled against the ropes, her heart racing, but they were tied too tight. A scream echoed from downstairs. Mrs. Evelyn froze. Then another scream, followed by silence.

Tears poured down her cheeks. She couldn't save her son.

A few moments later, Tracy reappeared, her clothes and hands drenched in blood. Mrs. Evelyn's heart shattered. She knew what had happened without even seeing it.

"Aw, mom, are you okay? Stop crying, Peter's happy," Tracy said, almost mockingly, pulling Rose off the bed. Rose cried, shaking uncontrollably, her nose and eyes leaking as she tried to resist.

Tracy let Rose go, watching as she clung to Mrs. Evelyn, seeking comfort. "It's a fun game, Rose," Tracy said. "You'll love it."

Rose, trembling with fear, asked, "Where is my brother?"

"If you run downstairs now, you might just save him," Tracy teased.

Desperate to help, Rose ran out of the room. Tracy turned to Mrs. Evelyn, who stared at her with an unsettling calmness. Tracy smiled and walked out, heading downstairs.

A loud banging came from the front door. "Open up, Mrs. Evelyn!" It was Detective Black. "I know you're in there! Open the door, or I'll break it down!"

Tracy smiled as she approached the kitchen, the detective's voice growing louder with each knock. Rose, in her rush, didn't see it coming. Tracy, hiding behind the kitchen door, swung a butcher knife, severing Rose's legs from the knees down.

Rose hit the floor with a piercing scream, blood spraying everywhere.

"Open the door!" Detective Black shouted, hearing the scream. He pulled out his keys, trying to hack the lock.

Upstairs, Mrs. Evelyn finally freed herself, thanks to Rose's earlier attempt to loosen the ropes. She grabbed a gun from the drawer, ran downstairs, and saw the carnage. Rose lay bleeding out, her legs gone. "Rose!" she screamed, lifting her daughter onto her lap.

With her dying breath, Rose pointed to the kitchen. "Peter," she whispered.

Mrs. Evelyn looked up and saw Peter's lifeless body on the kitchen floor, his arms severed. Her heart shattered. Tracy stood in the doorway, one of Peter's arms in her hand, a wicked grin on her face.

Mrs. Evelyn stood, gun shaking in her hands, and aimed at Tracy.

"Mom, what are you going to do?" Tracy taunted, still smiling.

Before Mrs. Evelyn could respond, the door finally burst open. Detective Black stormed in, gun drawn. "Don't shoot!" he yelled. "You're surrounded!"

He took in the gruesome scene: Rose bleeding to death, Peter dead, and Tracy holding a severed arm. Nothing made sense.

"Put the gun down!" he demanded, taking slow steps toward Mrs. Evelyn. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't move.

"Don't make me say it again!" the detective warned.

Mrs. Evelyn exhaled sharply, lowering her hand for a moment, but then raised it again, her finger pulling the trigger.

Before she could fire, a bullet tore through her skull. Detective Black had shot first. Mrs. Evelyn fell to the ground, dead.

Black rushed over to Rose, but her heartbeat was faint and fading. Peter was already gone. Tracy, still holding the severed arm, looked at him and said, "Thank you."

Black, confused and overwhelmed, picked up the gun Mrs. Evelyn had held. It was empty. No bullets.

As the police rushed in, carrying the living and dead to ambulances, Detective Black stared at the gun in his hands. Mrs. Evelyn had never had a chance to fire. The truth of what had happened remained as twisted as the scene itself.