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I stare at the mangled faces of these sacks of skin called my children. It comforts me. It raises my mood.

It all started when the morning of a summer day broke. My son turned eight yesterday. I'm 43 years old. My daughter is five. The mother... My wife died a week ago. Leukaemia is terrible when it attacks the best of us... I just wish to see her beautiful face again.

The boy's name is Ben. He is blonde with brown eyes. He has freckles, like his mom, and very prominent ears. His mouth is straight and thin. He is also very skinny. The girl is Mally. She is baby faced with brown hair. Her cheeks are puffed so much, they might pop at any moment! We're a happy family, despite one casualty. Nothing can break us. Nothing until what happens next.

After Ben returned from school, I got a phone call. His school said that he's been falling behind in his classes. "Ben," I said. "Is this true? Are you having trouble?"

His head was down when I looked at him. When Ben's face pointed at me, I didn't even notice my own son. I saw a pale white face, pure black eyes, and a disturbingly sharpened smile. "No trouble, dad. Everything is fine," Ben groaned in a fearing voice. I couldn't build up enough nerve to keep looking at him, so I was stuttering out of my mouth for him to carry on. Am I high? Maybe it was depression. I hope it was just an illusion.

Sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping on coffee, my daughter, Mally, came to me. "Daddy," she said in the sweetest of voices. "If I die, will I be able to see mommy again?"

"What makes you say that, sweetie?" I asked her.

"Well, if you loved mommy, then you would do anything to see her again. Isn't that right? So if you wanted to see mommy, you would die, right? Unless, of course, you don't love mommy. Do you love mommy?" Mally has the same look as Ben. God, why me? Why my children?

I was looking for Ben. He wasn't in the living room, kitchen, or bathroom. I looked to see if he was in his room, but... I noticed that there was a blood trail leading to his room. Mally came out of the room with a knife covered in blood. "No one will ever have to know, no one should know, no one will know," she whispered.

I approached the room, dreading that something happened. If you saw someone holding a knife, what do you think happened? No one wants to see their own son, drenched in their own blood. I creaked open the door. Before opening the door, my eyes were shut. Sweat was pouring down to my eyelashes. That's where the sweat and tears combined. My eyes were shaking and pupils were shrinking while I had them closed. I opened up my eyes.

Ben was alright. He was playing his games while eating chips. What's weird, though, was that Mally was watching him. But didn't she just walk out? I need to know more.

I followed the blood trail up to Mally's room. I didn't hesitate to open the door. It was locked, so I kicked it open. What I saw made me devastated.

My children, my wonderful children... Ben had his neck ripped down to the bone. His chest was ripped open by someone's bare hands. His eyes were popped and his leg was torn off and jammed into his stomach.

Mally's head was hanging from a rope. It seems that she died a while ago since below the neck was on the floor. I picked up her body, which was already in Rigor Mortis, and held it close to me as I weep and weep. My state of depression slowly shifted towards anger and revenge. It seems clear now that those kids in Ben's room weren't my children.

I took the knife set by Ben's corpse and charged towards the kitchen. I grabbed a syringe and filled it with antifreeze. Then I went to Ben's room. As the monster inside of Mally's body came out of Ben's room, she was greeted by a warm blade towards the right eye. As my blade got stuck inside of her socket, I started pulling my the blade upwards. She was giving violent screams that I was enjoying. The more she screamed, the more I pull upwards. This kept going until her head split open, exposing her brain and skull fragments.

That thing called Ben witnessed the whole thing. No one in my shoes would let him get away, so I flung the syringe at him. Before he could pull it out, I tackled him and pushed it inside of him. He coughed and coughed and showed more uneasiness until I got impatient and slammed my knife deep into his skull.

I stare at the mangled faces of these sacks of skin called my children. It comforts me. It raises my mood.

I stayed inside of that house for several weeks, just staring at my masterpiece. I thought it was beautiful.I went several weeks with no food, no water, nothing. The police came to my house because Ben hasn't attended school for so long. When they knocked, no one answered. They just opened the door, saying "Oh God Almighty, what the Hell is that smell?" They approached Ben's room, seeing me, just sitting in place, watching the corpses. They dragged me outside and put me inside of the cop car. The charges that I am facing is two accounts of murder of minors.

I was sentenced to three years of life. I asked that if they found four bodies. They said that I have lost my mind when my wife died. This was because of the fact that there were only two corpses found in that house.