The Sheet

Act Five

"At around 1:00 PM, as students were leaving..." Oh my God! They were talking about his school.

"An unidentified man mowed down several students as they exited the school gate with his van. From initial reports, it appears that the man, alone, then got out of the vehicle and started firing multiple gunshots at the students, teachers, and parents present there. Once the massacre outside was complete, the individual reportedly barricaded himself inside the school, continuing to kill everyone inside the building. Several police units have already arrived on the scene and engaged in a shootout with the assailant. The exact number of casualties is unknown, but...

It was followed by a succession of speculations, impromptu interviews with various criminal experts...

Later, he couldn't say how long he lay there. Ten minutes? An hour? Or maybe more? The only thing that snapped him out of the trance he had fallen into was another update on the horrifying event.

"We have just learned that the assailant has been shot down by law enforcement officers, and... one moment," the reporter interrupted herself, pressing the earpiece into her ear. "The man has been identified! We are still waiting for official confirmation, but according to reports from news agencies, it appears to be..."

His father!

His father was the killer.

He felt the house squeezing in on him, making it hard to breathe. Despite the nausea, he managed to grab pen and paper and wrote a single word before collapsing to the floor.

Why?

After waking up from what seemed like a moment, it took him a while to realize that it was night. He got up, turned on the light with a strangely sore hand, and returned to the table. Incredible: during his blackout, there were a few lines of text under the question he had written, which the pen seemed to have written by itself.

No, it had been him when he was unconscious.

He realized it as he looked at the ink-stained hand. With his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest, he began to read.

Because this is what you wanted. I am a tool created to fulfill the desires of an individual within the limits of human possibilities. The only way to stop your father and your classmates from bothering you was to make them eliminate each other. As you have already read, I can grant wishes but not perform miracles. I cannot make those who despise you love you, nor can I give you happiness, money, and power without taking them from someone else.

In response, he could only write four words.

And now what do I do?

As if controlled by someone else, his hand moved on its own across the paper.

Make your next wish.