Alesha's POV

When Robbie finally came back, he was carrying bags full of nutritional supplements. The moment he stepped through the door, Dad forgot all about the news on TV. He got up quickly and hurried over to help, grabbing the bags from Robbie one by one and setting them down on the floor.

"Work been keepin' you busy?" Dad asked, his voice full of concern. "You look tired. Was the traffic bad? You really don’t need to bring all this when you come home. Your mom and I are fine—just take care of yourself, Alesha, and the baby. That’s all we need."

Mom heard the commotion from the kitchen and came out, still wearin' her apron, wiping her hands on it awkward-like.

"Robbie’s back?" she called, smiling. "Wash up; the food’s almost ready. Alesha’s in the bedroom."

They say a son-in-law’s like half a son, but in this house, Robbie got treated even better than their own flesh and blood. Facin' all their care and concern, Robbie just smiled, nodded, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

As soon as he was gone, Dad turned to Mom and nudged her back toward the kitchen. "What are you doin' out here? The man’s home, and dinner ain’t even ready yet! Don’t keep ‘em waitin’!"

Mom just sighed but went back to cooking in the end.

What a lovely atmosphere—so hard to part with.

I opened the drawer by my bedside, took my final dose of medication, and slowly got up. When I walked into the living room, Robbie was just coming out of the bathroom, his eyes on me, full of concern.

"Why are you dressed so warm? You feelin’ okay?" he asked, reachin’ for my forehead to check.

I stepped back just before his hand could touch me, feelin' my face flush a little. "My parents are here, Robbie. Don’t act up."

Dad chuckled and then cleared his throat, pretending not to hear anything, but the smile on his face gave him away. Robbie just smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, wrapped jewelry box. He opened it, showing me a necklace that sparkled in the light, the gemstones catchin' the sun just right.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft. "You’ve worked so hard takin’ care of our daughter. I thought you deserved somethin’ special."

I turned around, lettin’ him clasp the necklace around my neck. His hands were gentle and patient—he was indeed a perfect husband.

Once I was done setting the table, I glanced over to see Robbie out on the balcony, taking a phone call. None of us—me, Mom, or Dad—touched our food. We just waited. Robbie didn’t come back for half an hour, and it wasn’t until he sat down again that we started eatin’.

Dad, who was usually calm, looked a little nervous today. Every few minutes, he kept piling food onto Robbie’s plate. "Try this," he’d say. "Your mom makes it best—you won’t find better anywhere."

Mom smiled nervously, with pride in her eyes. "It’s not about bein’ the best. If the kids like it, that’s what matters. And if you do, I’ll make it more often. Just come home more often, Robbie, and bring Alesha and the baby with you."

Their faces were clear to me—too clear—and just like that, I lost my appetite. I stood up and headed to the bedroom.

"Alesha," Mom called after me, "where you goin’? Eat somethin’ before it gets cold!"

"It’s fine," I said over my shoulder. "The baby’s probably hungry, and I need to make her some formula before she starts cryin’."

I was feeding my daughter when I heard it.

One dull thud.

Then two.

Then three.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I stepped into the living room just in time to see Mom and Dad lying on the floor, sprawled out. Robbie, the only one still somewhat conscious, was slumped over, struggling to move. But the drugs had already taken hold, and his mouth couldn’t form a single word.

That’s alright. I wanted him to watch this play out. Let him see how karma works.

Alesha's POV

I reached into the drawer and grabbed the first knife I saw, my hands shaking with the weight of all the hatred I’d carried. I made my way over to where my parents lay, took a deep breath, and raised that knife high above my head. Then, I brought it down hard—straight into their chests. Blood splattered across my face, but I didn’t flinch. No hesitation. No regret. This was what had to be done.

After making sure they were gone, I turned toward Robbie. His face, flushed with fear, was twisted in anger. He wanted to get away, but he couldn’t. He was too weak now, gasping for breath like a wounded animal trapped in a corner.

I stood there, lookin’ at him, and all that hate inside me rose up like a wildfire.

Why? Why did he get to live like everything was fine when he was the one who caused all this?

Tears started falling as I raised the knife again. This time, I aimed for his legs. One hard stab and the pain knocked him out cold.

I didn’t stop, though. A minute later, I’d cut his legs clean off, turning them into a bloody mess. The blood sprayed all over the room, painting the walls like a gruesome canvas.

But even that wasn’t enough for me. I slashed his face a couple of times, watching the skin peel away. Only then did satisfaction wash over me, but only a flicker.

My hand trembled as I slid the knife down his chest, wanting to cut open his heart, to make him feel the pain I felt. But just then, I remembered my daughter. I hurried to check on her. No one could be left alive. When I got there, I saw her little body lying still, peacefully gone after drinking her formula. At least I’d spared her a painful death. That much I could do.

I laid her tiny body down gently, then went back to the living room. I opened the front door, lettin’ the smell of blood drift out into the open air. Then, I picked up the phone and called the police on myself.

While I waited for them to arrive, I used what strength I had left to carve marks into him, making sure Robbie wouldn’t forget what I’d done to him. By the time I was too tired to continue, I collapsed on the sofa, grabbing the plate of fruit Mom had washed earlier. I ate it all, piece by piece.

By the time the police showed up, I was finishing the last bite.

They rushed Robbie to the hospital, still barely hangin' on. The place was filled with officers, snapping pictures and gathering evidence. If I wasn’t their daughter, folks would’ve called it a full family massacre.

Outside, the neighbor gathered at the door, snapping photos on their phones, shoutin' insults my way.

“I saw her mama buyin' groceries just this mornin’, and now they’re dead—killed by their own daughter. She’s a total psychopath!"

"Psychopath too nice a word! Even animals don’t turn on their own. She's a monster! Her parents treated her like gold, and this is how she pays ‘em back!”

"That poor guy’s probably her husband, right? They just got married. I even had their wedding souvenir. Who’d have thought she’d cripple him like that? What a nightmare!”

I didn’t hide a thing. The drugs were laid out plain as day on the table. When the investigation wrapped up, all the evidence pointed right back to me.

Listening to the voices outside, the officers glared at me, as if they wanted to execute me on the spot. “Why did you do it?” one of them demanded. "They were your parents! And your daughter—she was only a month old! What could possibly make you do somethin’ so evil?”

Just then, the drugs in my system started wearin’ off, and the pain came crashing down like a storm. I dropped to the floor, curling into myself, my whole body shaking. One officer kicked at me, wary. “What are you playin’ at now? Don’t try anything funny. The evidence is clear—you’d best come clean."

Then another officer came over, holding my medical record in his hand. “This woman’s got late-stage bone cancer.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

“So what?” someone muttered. “That’s no excuse for killin' her own kin!”

“Exactly,” another officer said. "If she’s gonna die anyway, we should make sure it’s a painful one. No mercy for her!"

"A murderer like her deserves the death penalty. She murdered her whole family—there’s no forgiveness for that!”

I managed to catch my breath and weakly said, "I’m guilty. I admit it. I wasn’t plannin’ to escape. I’ll tell you why I did it. But first, I need to see Robbie—"

Before I could finish, a young officer rushed at me, full of fury. “You’ve got some nerve makin’ demands, after what you’ve done!”

Another officer pulled him back. “Hold on,” he said. “Let’s hear her out. She doesn’t seem crazy, and she didn’t try to flee. Maybe this story’s more than it seems.”

“It looks like revenge,” another officer added quietly. “A whole family slaughter… it’s usually for somethin’ deep.”

I gave him a slow nod. He was right. My reasons went back twenty-five long years.

Satisfied they’d listen, I let out a slow breath and passed out, finally spent.

In my dreams, I was back in my childhood. There I was, sitting in my little baby walker, scootin’ around with my folks right behind me. Dad swooped me up into his arms, and Mom handed me some cotton candy. We looked like one of those picture-perfect families you see in stories, where everything turns out just right.

But then my dream shifted. Mom’s face turned cold as she said, "So what if you’re sick? Everyone gets sick. No need for all those checkups. Just listen to me—I’ll have a doctor treat you here at home."

My voice trembled as I whispered, "Mom, don’t you love me anymore?"

"Mom, it hurts so much..."

"Mom, why did you both change so much after I got married?"

...

Suddenly, a splash of ice-cold water hit me, pulling me from the dream. I opened my eyes, finding myself being led down a hospital hallway.

The officers pointed to the intensive care unit beside us, their voices icy. "Robbie is in there. Take a good look at what you’ve done to him! He’s still out cold—how do you expect him to talk? You wanted to see him, now you have. So, you ready to tell us why you did it?"

Step by step, I dragged myself to the glass window of his room.

There, through the glass, I saw him lying on the bed, pale as a ghost, looking so weak.

I shook my head, slow but firm. "I’ll only tell Robbie," I whispered. "If I wanted him dead, I would’ve finished him off at home."

I wanted him to live with the truth, to suffer every day for what he did.

"You—!" One of the officers nearly lost it, his face goin' red as a sunset, fists clenched like he was ready to throw me out.

I knew they were barely holding back, trying to keep their cool. A case like this, with the whole family involved, wasn’t something they saw every day. Folks around town must’ve been talkin’, and I could imagine the storm stirrin' up online. But none of that mattered to me now.

The head officer then nudged the officer, who had just become emotional, and instructed, "Go ask the doctor when Mr. Mcknight will wake up, or if there's any way to wake him up sooner."

Maybe the heavens showed me a little mercy just then, 'cause not long after the officer left, Robbie’s eyes fluttered open.

The door to his room creaked as it slowly swung open. He turned his head toward the noise, and when his eyes locked on me, they burned with pure hatred. If looks could kill, I’d be dead a hundred times over.

"Alesha," he spat, his voice full of venom. "Did you kill your parents? Are you out of your mind?"

"They treated you so well! How could you do something so horrible?"

He tried to get up like he was gonna jump out of bed and strangle me right there. But without his legs, all he did was fall flat on his face, helpless.

Watching him squirm like that, seeing him reduced to this pathetic state—it was like a rush of satisfaction washed over me. Tears rolled down my face as I laughed. The laughter came out so hard it twisted my face with all the rage bottled up inside.

"Robbie," I said, through my trembling laughter. "What right do you have to say that to me?"