Who's to Say What's Strange?

Cheating and Winning is Still Winning

I stared at the bodies of these strangers with a blank mind. I didn't want to face what I had or hadn't done. But whether or not I wanted to, there were still cops in the door way, that much I knew, and I suppose had to voice what everybody here was thinking.

"Holy shit…"

"Daddy," I heard Ivan whisper in my ear. His breath was familiar and soothing, but I didn't know why. When I turned to look at him, he seemed to be asking me a question with his eyes. There were still dried blood and tears on his face, but he didn't seem at all bothered by them anymore. I should know what he's asking… But I don't. It's there in my mind, but I can't seem to reach it.

Without warning, Ivan stood up and his face changed. That's when it clicked. He was being sad again.

"Officers?" he whispered just loud enough, in his persuasive voice I knew so well. "Please don't hurt me or my daddy." I knew something was wrong. I should warn them. Just as I was about to ready myself to tell them, I realized I didn't know what it was again.

There were three cops in the doorway. As Ivan spoke, they all lowered their guns, sensing no threat. Of course, who would?

I don't know how he pulled it out, but a half second later, Ivan had a gun from his jacket pocket and after I blinked (I suppose I was still dazed and things were moving pretty slowly) all three men were lying facedown, blood and brain matter oozing from their freshly cracked skulls. I sat there, waiting for my heart to speed up and fear to set in, but it never did.

"See Daddy, I take care of us," Ivan said in a cheery voice. His small hand reached out for mine and helped me to my feet. I stared at his dirty face and wanted nothing more than to listen to anything he had to say. "I think we should move somewhere warmer. Don't you think so, Daddy?"

"Of course," I say without hesitation.

"That's it. We'll move down south where it's warm. And I want a horse. I've always wanted one. Now’s as good a time as any. Come on, Kevin."

"Anything for you…" And I smiled.

"And I want a better mother this time. And a sister would be fun too. Brothers are just not as fun anymore. You know?"

"Of course," I repeat. Ivan looked up at me and smiled, grabbing my hand and leading me to the car.

"Let's go ahead then, before more of the police men show up. That wouldn't be good. You know how unfair they can be," Ivan said as he clicked his seat belt in place. I looked down at the keys in my hand.

"This is wrong…" I muttered. I felt like I was waking up. There was defiantly a kind of fog or film covering my eyes. I rubbed it away and looked at Ivan who just looked back with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you finished? I thought we were trying to get out of here fast?" he said, crossing his arms.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, pointing toward the bodies in the garage.

"Oh, I didn't do that. You did. Don't you remember? You did it to them, just like you did to the Brown family in Chicago, the Reed family in that little town outside of Albany, even mother. How could you forget? You must be purely insane if you could forget that." Somehow Ivan's words made sense. And I listened. I knew this wasn't the first time I'd done it either, but I didn't know if this was the first time I'd had this revelation. It didn't matter. This was wrong. I knew it was wrong.

Yet I drove. And as I drove, memories flooded back into my brain almost too fast for me to comprehend. I remembered coming here, Ivan pointing out a woman and her boys. It was like watching the behind the scenes of a movie. I saw myself playing a goodhearted man with a wife and two children. I saw Ivan pretending to be a harmless, troubled young boy. I remembered his persuading words, the way he directed our little show while still playing his role perfectly.

And I was the audience.

He played me like a puppet.

I may not be altogether sane, but he's a demon.

When the memories stopped, I slammed the breaks and Ivan fell forward into his seatbelt. "Get out." I growled.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" he asked, fear shaking his voice like wind to a leaf.

"Get out right now you little psychopath. I won't do this anymore." Ivan stared at me unbelievingly.

"Kevin, please, you're just confused. Let's just get back home and everything will be just fine…" Ivan tried. But I had him. I knew this time.

"Get out of the car you little freak!" I yelled finally. Ivan looked truly frightened and I almost started feeling guilty as I saw him cowering in the seat.

His eyes darted all around the car, trying to find some sort of escape key. I watched fear turn to a demented smile as he looked in the rearview mirror.

"You know, Kevin, being your son had its ups and downs, no doubt about it, but as long as you're going to act so childish, I really don't think it's working out." I tried to cut in here, but he wouldn't let me. "Now don't worry, I'm sure we'll both find other people. Mine, who knows, but for you, maybe your cellmate will be the most interesting man in the world. I wonder how long you'll last before you miss me. You've made a big mistake, you know that?" He clicked on the seat belt and put his hand on the door handle. "See you in Hell."

I looked in my rearview mirror as he stood behind my car and smiled. As I was about to pull out and drive away to God knows where, a cop blocked my way. I glared back as Ivan, whose eyes were already widening in fear and I saw him almost turn tail and run.

"Officer! Please, this kid, he's crazy, you have to stop him! He's killed three people down at that old house and-"

"Make him stop! Please! Don't hurt me again, Daddy!" I looked back at the boy, who was now on his knees, already dragging up the tears again.

I was caught. I knew it. Maybe I wasn't the mastermind, but my hand had done all of my child's bidding. And I couldn't even remember why. I only stared at the crying child as the police officer handcuffed me and read me my rights. I didn't take my eyes off of him even after I was stuffed in a police car, or when an ambulance came to check on him.

For a moment, I actually thought I might've been just like he'd make me think: a killer who'd subjected my poor, helpless son to my work. I felt guilty in that moment too. Just as someone was about to take the bloody boy away, he asked if he could speak to me though the barred window. I almost smiled. I was almost proud that my son would, after all I'd done to him, would still care. He put a hand on the netting and looked me in the eye, not a trace of fear or sympathy.

"I told you to do just like I said to, didn't I? You finally decided to go sane at the wrong time. I win, Daddy."

Finally. Done! I feel kind of bad for Kevin, though... Oh well, what do you think? Please vote and stuff. :) And check out my other stories, too!