THIS WILL BE THE LAST

"Now, let’s continue." The man in a police uniform started as he took out the photos inside the brown envelope and scattered them in front of me.

My eyes fluttered as a sign of dreary. I want to ask for a glass of water, but I know nothing would be enough to drain the chaotic emotions in me.

Instead of looking at the gruesome photos of the people I grew up with, I turned my head around in the small plain room. It’s so cold here, and I’m tired of answering the same questions over again.

Nothing seems to be enough with the detective sitting in front of me. The old man is eager to prompt me to say the answers he wants to hear from me instead of the truth. 

“Mr. Hernandez, for the hundredth time, can you please answer our question this time?” He said. I noticed him clenching his jaw. But I didn’t give in. I still remain my eyes on the painted white wall. 

That doesn't help mend the emotions that are welling up inside me. He's just making things worse for me. I've actually seen their dead bodies with my own two eyes. Further aggravating my already poor state is his insistence that I reflect on them.

“A’right!” The detective straightened his back before picking up another envelope. 

“What are your motives, huh? Why did you kill your grandfather?”

He grabbed my attention and stirred the worst in me. After several blinks, my eyes regained focus. To keep me from erupting, I balled my fists. However, when he showed me a picture of my grandfather, I trembled with anger.

All of the horrendous things he'd done to us came flooding back to me, bringing more tears to my eyes. I tightened my fists even further and gritted my teeth as I stared straight ahead at the detective seated in the chair next to me.

“He’s not dead,” I said, filled with conviction in my hoarse voice.

When I tried to take a breath, all I got was suffocation in this hellhole. My gaze quickly shifted to the other cop, who was standing limply in the doorjamb. He says nothing as he scrutinizes my every move.

“Then, study the picture again,” The old cop chuckled, mocking me.

“For what? To torture me?” I scoffed. I clicked my tongue in irritation and tore the picture up to the smallest fragment of it.

He grimaced at me and didn’t expect what I did next. I blew all the fragments of the photo into his face.

“I did not kill him. And I did not kill anyone.”

“So how would you explain these photos?!” He retorted back. His expression darkened.

For a brief moment, there was complete stillness. Everything that had transpired in the cabin raced through my mind as soon as I closed my eyes.

We were celebrating our long-awaited reunion and the birthdays of my sister and my friend, reminiscing about the things we missed in each other’s life. We were completely unaware of the danger that had been stalking us ever since we stepped foot in that house.

One by one, I saw how my friends fell limply on the ground.

One by one, our bodies were soaked in a pool of blood.

One by one, I saw him take their lives.

Regrets picking me. If I hadn't brought my friends to the lake house. Perhaps they were still alive.

I opened my eyes again, dissociating myself from the nightmarish thoughts I had as the same faces greeted me.

I trembled, “I swore that night.”

My fists flew across the table as I sprung from my seat in anguish. Before I spit out the last words I said that night, I watched his eyes widen in dread.

“This will be the last.”