The Wicked Game of a Psychopath

by Stan Hendriks

  The crowd applauded and after Benjamin congratulated Daniel, he looked at the crowd and asked, “Is there anyone else who would like to share their story?” Everyone stayed quiet and avoided eye contact with Benjamin. “No one?” Benjamin asked as he looked at Susan. With a deep breath and a nervously pounding heart, Susan got up and slowly raised her hand. “Ah, Susan. Please come.” Susan walked onto the stage as the crowd applauded and Benjamin gave her the microphone and whispered, “I’m proud of you. Only share what you want to share, okay?”

  “Okay,” Susan nodded. She then raised the microphone closer to her mouth and said, “Hello, my name is Susan and I’m a recovering alcohol addict. I have been clean for four months now, but it hasn’t been easy, to say the least. In fact, it’s been hell. A year ago, my son was brutally murdered. He was only eight-teen years old and still had his whole life in front of him. There was a three-day festival in Phoenix and my son, and his friends planned to go over there and… well, party. But after a long drive, they decided to go to a motel to get some well-needed rest. However, there was a bar attached to the motel, and there was a party going on with lots of people and they decided to join the party. They stayed in the bar for a couple of hours but eventually, my son got tired and decided to call it a night and went back to his room. Little did he know that a psychopath would be waiting in his room with a knife in his hand. Two hours later, my son’s body was found in his motel room. He had been stabbed multiple times and not only that, but the psychopath had also slit his throat. Why? I don’t know, no one does. And on top of that, my son’s murderer is still out there. The police tried their absolute best, but they haven’t been able to catch him yet. It was a carefully planned murder, and the murderer was a professional. And as you can imagine, when the officer came to my house in the middle of the night to bring me the news, it broke me. My heart was torn apart and I simply could not believe it. He was so young, so full of life. To this day I still remember embracing him, giving him a kiss on his head, and telling him to be careful and… it hurts. If I only knew that that would have been the last time I was going to see him, hold him, I… I don’t even know. He was my everything, I loved that boy to death, he truly was the light in my darkness. But… he’s gone and… sorry, I have to leave. Sorry.” Susan then gave the microphone back to Benjamin and walked off the stage and out of the sports hall with tears in her eyes.

  It was chilly outside, and as Susan rubbed her hands together, she noticed a young man standing not too far away from her. He was smoking a cigarette and he wore a black beanie, brown leather gloves, and had a navy-blue duffel bag around his shoulder. Susan walked over to him and as she wiped away her tears, she asked, “Sorry to bother you, but do you by any chance have a cigarette for me?”

  “Of course,” the man replied with a smile as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his coat and gave one cigarette to Susan.

  “Thank you so much,” Susan said as she put the cigarette on her lip.

  The man lit up her cigarette and asked, “Rough meeting, huh?”

  “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

  “Yea, I see it all the time, people running out of the meeting with tears in their eyes and looking completely devastated.”

  “So, you work here then or?”

  “Not really, I just come here for the sobbing stories these people who have run out of the meeting tell. And I shit you not, they always ask me for a cigarette while half of them don’t even smoke. But nonetheless, the stories are often quite interesting. However, there is one thing I can’t wrap my head around.”

  “And what is that?”

  “These men, you know. These crying babies who come here to talk about their emotions. I don’t get it, just man up, grow a pair, be a fucking man, and get your shit together, right?”

  “Are you implying that a man is weak when he expresses his emotions?”

  “Yes, and it’s a fact. Nothing but pathetic feminine men in there. They truly are the cancer of society.” After hearing that, Susan dropped her cigarette and took a couple of steps away from him. “What are you doing? Is something wrong?”

  “Who… who are you?”

  “Justin, Mr. Miller’s associate,” Justin replied with a grin as he pulled his beanie down, which turned out to be a ski mask, and threw his duffel bag on the ground. He zipped the bag open, grabbed a light machinegun out of it, loaded it, and continued, “I’m sorry, Susie, but Mr. Miller told me that you weren’t allowed to witness what comes next.”

  Susan was frozen from fear and in complete shock. But by the time she came back to her senses, it was already too late. Justin hit her on her head with the back of the machinegun and the last thing she saw before she hit the ground was Justin going inside and opening fire.

  Chapter seven Day ten

  The final stage

  Susan woke up on her couch. The wine glass on the coffee table was still half full and the television had turned itself on sleeping mode. It was one PM. Slightly confused and disorientated, Susan rubbed in her eyes and it took a while before she realized that she was in her living room, which looked completely fine. She then walked into the kitchen and threw some water in her face only to take another good look around. Her mobile phone was laying on the kitchen table and she nearly passed out when she saw that it was the fifth of August. She had one unread message of Kyle which read, “Mom, I’ll be home soon”. Her eyes filled up with tears as she stared at the message in complete disbelief. Right at that moment, she heard the front door open and close. She immediately grabbed a knife out of the knife block and stared at the hallway door. She held the knife up and got ready to unleash hell on whoever was going to come through that door. But to her surprise, Kyle opened it. He casually threw his bag off his shoulder and kicked his shoes off before he saw his mother standing there with a knife. “Wow, mom? What are you doing?” Susan dropped the knife and stared at Kyle without saying a word. “Mom, is everything all right?” With tears flowing down her cheeks, she ran towards Kyle and embraced him tightly. As she was crying her eyes out, she told him how much she loved him and how much she had missed him. Kyle comforted her and told her that everything was fine. But he didn’t quite understand why his mother was crying as he had only been gone for a day. Apparently, Muhammed had forgotten his wallet when they arrived at the motel and that’s why they decided to just go back home again. Susan couldn’t believe it and she refused to let go off Kyle. It took her a good twenty minutes before she was able to slightly calm down again. Kyle asked multiple times why she was so emotional and although Susan wanted to tell him that she thought he had died, she simply told him that she had missed him a lot and that she was happy to have her son back. They sat down at the dinner table for a while and talked for an hour or so with a cup of coffee. After that, Susan gave Kyle a kiss on his head and went upstairs to the bathroom while Kyle dropped down on the couch and turned on the television.

  In the bathroom, Susan took a good look at herself and not only had the dark circles underneath her eyes disappeared, but she also had a bright smile on her face. Was the game Mr. Miller played with her simply a terrible nightmare? Was it even possible to have such a long nightmare that felt so real? It was confusing, but none of it mattered. She had her son back and everything seemed to be fine with him and that’s all that mattered. So, after taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind, locked the bathroom door, and turned on the shower. It was a brief but emotionally healing shower. She hadn’t enjoyed anything for a long time, but now that Kyle was back in her life, she was looking forward to life itself again and to enjoy the trivial things it had to offer. As she wrapped a towel around her body and blow-dried her hair, Kyle knocked on the bathroom door. “Yes, honey?”

  “There is someone on the phone for you.”

  Susan immediately turned off the blow dryer and nearly ripped the bathroom door off its hinges. “What do you mean?”

  “Jeez, are you sure everything is all right? You scared the hell out of me.”
r />   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But who’s on the phone?”

  “Some guy from the bank or whatever. He said that you have a debt or something.”

  “Debt?”

  “Yea, I don’t know but he needs to speak to you.”

  “Sure,” Susan nodded as she walked downstairs and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Wakey, wakey, dear Susie,” Mr. Miller said.

  “No… no, this can’t be true!”

  “It’s time to wake up, sweet Susie.”

  “No! Fuck off!” Susan shouted as she threw the phone away. “Kyle?! Kyle?!” But Kyle didn’t respond. She immediately ran upstairs and checked every room, but Kyle was nowhere to be seen. As if he had disappeared into thin air. “Kyle?! Sweetie?! Where are you?! No… no, please no. Kyle, please come back. Where are you?!” Susan fell to her knees and broke down in tears. All she could hear was Mr. Miller whispering to her that she had to wake up and once again, Kyle was ripped out of her life. She screamed at the top of her lungs, begging to whoever was out there to not put her through this again and to bring her son back. But when she woke up in a hospital bed, she realized that it was just a dream.

  “Hey, hey, it’s all right. It’s all right,” Marco, who sat next to the bed, said as he lied his hand on her arm. “Just breathe, you’re in the hospital and you’re fine.”

  “Kyle… where is Kyle?”

  With a deep breath, Marco replied, “Did you forget what happened to Kyle?”

  “No, but I… I had him in my arms again. He came home. It… it can’t be a dream. Please tell me that it wasn’t a dream.”

  “I’m sorry, I really am. But Kyle is not here.”

  With tears in her eyes, Susan shook her head in disbelief and tried to get up. Marco prevented her from doing so and that’s when she started to resist, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. Marco had to use all of his strength to keep her on the bed and a nurse quickly gave her an injection which after about five minutes, calmed Susan down again. She stared into the abyss for a while as she sat up in the bed, and eventually, she quietly said, “I’m sorry. It… it just felt so real.”

  “Don’t apologize, I completely understand. I’ve had dreams about Kyle coming home again as well and it’s tough to wake up after and realize that it was just a dream.” Susan nodded and Marco continued, “But how are you feeling? Are you in pain or? And do you remember what happened?”

  “Vaguely. I remember speaking about Kyle and pretending that I was a recovering alcohol addict but eventually it got too much for me. So, I ran out and outside of the sports hall I saw a guy who was smoking so, I asked him for a cigarette, and he gave me one. He seemed nice until he took a gun out of his bag and hit me with it. I remember seeing him running inside and opening fire. Oh my god, what did he do? What happened?”

  “The guy you spoke to, Justin McGraw, is a well-known mercenary who does anything if the price is right. He’s number one on the most wanted list and they say that he has killed well over a thousand people already.”

  “Did they catch him?”

  “No, they were close to catching him, but somehow he managed to escape and sadly, the damage was already done. There were one hundred and twenty-one people in there and he killed eighty-eight of them, all men. No one knows why, but he didn’t fire a single bullet at the women. Instead, he just focused completely on the men. It’s… the world is getting crazier each day and I cannot understand how some people are capable of doing stuff like this. I really don’t. But I’m glad that you made it out alive. However, I would like to know why you went there in the first place.”

  “I… sorry, but I can’t talk about that.”

  “That’s fine,” Marco nodded. “I understand. And just so you know, Jack is downstairs. He didn’t want to come in here because of what happened between you two at the funeral. But you should know that he only wants to help you and he wants nothing more than to catch this murderer.”

  “I understand that, but the last time I even hinted that… sorry, I just can’t. And I don’t even know if Jack can be trusted.”

  “I heard what you accused him of, but he isn’t the murderer and you know it.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t rule it out. Some things happened and it’s… suspicious. But how long do I have to stay here?”

  “You’re free to leave whenever you want but, Susan, I understand that you can’t talk about what’s going on, but we’re not going to be able to catch the murderer if you don’t speak up.”

  As Susan got out of the bed and grabbed her purse that was laying on the chair next to Marco, she looked at him and let out a sigh. “You know, I was surfing the internet the other day and came across an article or video, I can’t remember what it was. But it was somewhere on the internet. Anyway, I read about how a boy smashed a pencil into his friend’s leg while illusionists were performing. And on top of that, a year later the mother of that particular boy stabbed his father to dead and killed herself afterward. It’s… horrible. As you said, the world is getting crazier by the day. And mind you that that happened years ago. It’s ridiculous. But thank you for coming here. I really appreciate it.” Susan then walked away and left a confused Marco behind. And it took him a while before he figured out what Susan was trying to say. But as soon as he realized what Susan was trying to communicate, he immediately stood up and went downstairs to Jack, who was standing outside and smoking a cigarette. “You’re too late,” Jack said. “She already left. Does she still think that I’m the murderer? Because she didn’t look at me once, nor did she say a word.”

  “She said that she can’t rule it out just yet. But anyway, there is something we need to look into.”

  “And what may that be?”

  “Well, Susan gave me another hint. Something about a kid stabbing another kid with a pencil and a year after that, the mother of that kid stabbed his father to death and killed herself afterward. I think that kid is the murderer of Kyle and if we can find out when that happened and where, and what the name of that kid is, we can catch the murderer.”

  “That’s great, but for all we know, that kid, or the murderer, might be from a foreign country. I mean, we will search all over the internet, but if it isn’t on there then we’re going to have a problem. Do you have any idea how long ago this even happened?”

  “No idea at all, but this is the only lead we have, right?”

  “I guess so. Well then, let’s get it moving,” Jack replied as he threw his cigarette away and walked off to the parking garage with Marco right behind him.

  Later that day, a taxi dropped Susan off at her house and after she paid him, she went inside. As she closed the door behind her, she thought back on the dream she had about Kyle coming home. It felt so real and she had a challenging time accepting that it was simply a dream. But she also knew that the ending of the game was in sight and that soon, she was going to be able to avenge the death of her son. So, after taking a deep breath, she went into the living room. Inside of the living room, on the floor next to the pile of furniture, stood a steel suitcase. Confused, she slowly walked over it and carefully opened it. Inside of the suitcase was a pistol, a fully loaded magazine, an instruction manual, and a little note. She unfolded the little note and on the note was, “Congratulations, Mrs. Wilson! You have made it to the final stage of the game. The emotional rollercoaster and mentally torturing tasks have all led up to this moment. The moment you have been waiting for. Are you ready?”, written. “Oh, you bet I am,” Susan said with a determined and ready to go to war expression on her face. And without a shadow of a doubt, she grabbed the instruction manual and read through it attentively.

  About an hour later, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror with the pistol in her hand. With an angry expression on her face, she slowly raised the gun and pretended as if she pulled the trigger. She did this over and over again, but it didn’t get any easier. Did she have what it takes to kill someone? And what was it going to feel like? And if she kille
d Mr. Miller, wouldn’t that make her a murderer too? Wouldn’t that make her just as cruel and bad as Mr. Miller himself? All these questions made her doubtful and made her question whether killing Mr. Miller was indeed the right thing to do. But at the same time, he had killed her son in cold blood and in a brutal manner. He didn’t deserve empathy, he deserved to rot in hell. She couldn’t let him get away with this, he had to die by her hand. She was in conflict with herself and eventually, she laid the gun down on the edge of the sink and bowed her head down as a tear came rolling down her cheek. Fed up with herself that she even questioned whether she could kill Mr. Miller or not, she hit the mirror—which caused it to shatter into a million pieces—and screamed it out at the top of her lungs. She then went on to wreak more havoc and broke everything she could get her hands on until she eventually ended up on her knees on the hallway floor. But before she could even take a moment to breathe, the phone downstairs rang. With the pistol in her hand, she walked downstairs and picked the phone up. In the background, she could hear birthday music playing and Mr. Miller said, “Congratulations, Susie! I assume you have received and opened the gift that I sent you?’

  “I have.”