After being abducted, I gave birth to eight children. For ten years, I was chained in a pigsty, my mind shattered. Finally, the police found me and brought me back to my biological parents. My father held a large bag of snacks I loved as a child, his eyes red and raw. My mother gently combed through my matted, lice-infested hair, her voice choked with sobs. “It’s our fault, honey. We’re so sorry we lost you.” My younger sister stood beside them, already a mess of tears. Our family of four, finally reunited. But just when I had finally escaped the shadows of the past decade and could live like a normal person again, I did the unthinkable. I fed my sister a massive dose of pesticide. I chopped off my mother’s fingers, one by one, as she was preparing a feast for me. Then, I took the knife to my father’s legs, hacking them until he could no longer stand. As I watched them lying in pools of their own blood, gasping for their last breaths, a sense of relief washed over me. I calmly picked up the phone and called the police. 1. When the police arrived, I was quietly eating the blood-spattered cake on the table. It was the cake my mother had spent all evening baking for me. The cloying sweetness of the cream mixed with the coppery tang of rust in my mouth. After finishing the last bite, I turned and tore up the property transfer documents lying on the table beside me. The deed was in my name. The front door burst open. The first officer through, a young woman, let out a stifled scream and stumbled back. The officers behind her froze, their faces a mask of horror at the scene before them. I turned my head, my expression placid, and looked at the crowd gathering at the doorway. Neighbors craned their necks, their eyes a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity. Two of the officers lunged at me, treating me like a dangerous animal, and slammed me to the floor. The cold tiles and the sharp, sudden pain made me wince, but then a laugh escaped my lips. I had caught sight of the scattered, minced pieces of flesh on the floor. My mother’s fingers. Not far away, my father’s head had rolled into a corner, his eyes wide in a silent, eternal question. I tried to crawl closer to get a better look, but a heavy boot in my side stopped me. “Stay down!” a harsh voice commanded. “A monster like you will get what you deserve from the law.” I coughed, the taste of blood filling my mouth. Judgment? I had been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time. As they escorted me out of the building, the detective who had single-handedly fought off the villagers to rescue me pushed his way to the front of the crowd. His weary eyes, clouded with disbelief, fixed on me. “Did you really kill them? It’s not possible… You’re not that kind of person, Katie.” I smiled, a gentle, almost warm expression. “But I am, Detective Miller. I was born bad. It was all just an act.” Hearing my words, the man who had checked on me regularly since my return recoiled, his expression shifting from disappointment to horror. His face went pale, and he took an involuntary step back, his lips trembling, unable to form words. Seeing his reaction felt like a stone crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself to add, my voice soft, “That’s right. I killed them all—my father, my mother, and my sister. I didn’t spare a single one.” My confession hung in the heavy night air. The crowd erupted. “Her parents were so good to her… I remember how they went crazy looking for her after she was taken,” a middle-aged woman said. “For ten whole years, they cried every day, plastering missing person posters on every street corner. They wasted away to nothing…” “Exactly!” another familiar voice chimed in. “I heard when they found her, she was chained up in a pigsty, had eight kids… Her parents went through hell to bring her back, gave her this life of luxury, and she throws it all away!” “That backwoods husband of hers must have put her up to it.” “If we’d known this would happen, maybe they shouldn’t have…” The speaker trailed off. “Get her out of here! It’s dangerous to have someone like that around!” The chorus of condemnation was a heavy shroud over the night. An officer impatiently waved the crowd back, and their angry shouts dissolved into hushed whispers. Detective Miller’s eyes, usually so calm, were still filled with a profound disbelief. We looked at each other through the window of the police car, his gaze trying to bore through my façade. “If someone is threatening you, or…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You can tell me the truth. I will help you.” I just shook my head, my smile widening, my voice taking on a childlike glee. “I’m so glad you came… All I ever wanted was for you to take me away.” 2. It was almost 4 a.m. by the time I was settled in the precinct’s interrogation room. I kept my head down, letting them move around me. “Dr. Evans, could you give her a psychological evaluation first?” an officer’s voice said from above. “Considering the state we found her in…” I looked up as a middle-aged man in a suit approached. He had a professional, practiced smile and a stack of papers in his hand. I knew what they were. A psychiatric assessment form. Behind the one-way mirror, I could almost hear Detective Miller arguing with his colleagues. “It can’t be her. You don’t know what she’s been through… She just got back… She wouldn’t…” His voice was thick with compassion. I knew he was a good man, but I never imagined he’d still be defending me, even now. I smiled as the doctor sat down across from me. Before he could even speak, I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not insane,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. “You’re here to test my memory, logical reasoning, and attention to detail, correct?” I pointed to the one-way mirror. “Since I entered this room, four people have been in the observation room. The first was a female officer in uniform; she left about two minutes ago. The second and third were plainclothes detectives, likely from the homicide unit, based on their conversation. They’re standing behind the glass right now. The last one was the stenographer, who just went in to take notes.” Dr. Evans blinked, stunned. I continued, “Furthermore, you weren’t scheduled to be here today, were you? You were called in unexpectedly about half an hour ago. I can tell from the slight wrinkles in your shirt and the scuff marks on your shoes—you left in a hurry.” I paused, a knowing smile playing on my lips. “Shall I also explain why the camera in this room was repositioned ten minutes ago?” The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The doctor’s expression froze. He glanced at the one-way mirror, from which a muffled commotion could be heard. “This woman’s perception and analytical skills are perfectly normal,” Dr. Evans said, standing up, his voice tight. “In fact, they’re far more acute than average.” The corner of my mouth twitched upwards. After all, the truly insane know precisely how to fake their sanity. And I… I was just waiting for the perfect moment. The moment for the truth to finally see the light of day. An hour later, Detective Miller walked in. For a second, my eyes burned. The man standing before me was not the same one from a year ago. The warmth and pity in his gaze were gone, replaced by a deep, visceral disgust. Of course. Who wouldn’t be disgusted by a monster who had slaughtered her own family? His sharp eyes were fixed on me as he flipped through the report in his hands. He asked his first question. “What was your relationship with your sister like? Were you ever jealous of her? Did your parents show favoritism?” I paused, then answered quickly. “My sister and I had a wonderful relationship. As for favoritism, if anything, my parents seemed to favor me.” He stared at me, searching for a crack in my story. “Tell me, in detail, how you felt about your sister.” The room fell silent again. After a moment, I began to speak slowly. “This morning, for example, my mother and sister rushed out to go grocery shopping. Just before they left, my sister ran back to drape a light jacket over my shoulders, telling me the early summer breeze could still be chilly. She made sure to pack my favorite strawberry cake and chocolates in separate containers, worried the flavors might mix. She remembered everything I liked, even snacks I had idly mentioned wanting as a child.” Detective Miller cut me off. “And your father? What was your relationship with him?” I gave a small, almost mischievous smile. “It was good. My father did everything he could to make up for the past. You saw that yourself, didn’t you?” My words seemed to ignite a fire in him. He shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the interrogation table. “Stop playing games!” he roared. “Give me the details!” I let out a long, heavy sigh, as if expelling years of pent-up grief. “Alright. Let me start with what happened this morning.” I slowly raised my cuffed hands and placed them on the cold metal table. The clink of steel on steel was sharp and jarring. This was the first time I had ever stood up to him. We locked eyes, a silent battle of wills in the tense, suffocating air. The year I was home, my parents and sister were good to me. So good, it was as if they were trying to cram ten years of guilt and apology into a single year. The neighbors all said my years of suffering would be repaid with a lifetime of happiness. Today was supposed to be a party to celebrate the one-year anniversary of my return. This morning, my mother and sister hurried out to buy groceries. My father left early too, and though I didn’t know where he went, I knew he was preparing a surprise. And he was. When he returned, he had a thin piece of paper and a heavy box. It was the deed to the house, already signed and notarized. And a 1.4-ounce solid gold bracelet. I watched my mother and sister return, their arms laden with bags filled with all my favorite foods and snacks. Even in the summer heat, with sweat soaking through their clothes, they wouldn’t let me help carry anything. “Mommy’s going to make you a cake today,” my mother said, stroking my hair, her eyes full of tenderness. “I’ve never made one before, so you can’t make fun of it!” “I’ll help, big sister!” my sister said, tying on an apron. “I’ve been secretly watching baking videos for days. I promise we’ll make your favorite flavor.” Before starting the cake, my mother meticulously cleaned my room, not leaving a single stray hair. She did this every day for a year, saying that since I had lived in filth for so long, she would ensure the rest of my days were clean and beautiful. They poured all their guilt into a bottomless well of love for me. They spoiled me rotten. There were no arguments. Whatever I wanted, they bought. I sat on the sofa, watching them bustle around. All for me. I was enveloped in a cocoon of love. I answered his questions mechanically, my voice too calm for someone who had just annihilated their family. The interrogation room fell into a dead silence. “Then tell me how you killed them,” Detective Miller’s voice, cold as ice, broke through my reverie. My throat felt tight, my own voice trembling but laced with a strange, eerie calm. “I loved my parents and my sister very much. They were so good to me. Naturally, I had to repay their kindness…” A barely perceptible smile touched my lips. “So I made sure they died as a complete family, all neat and tidy.”
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