Saturday, 06:47 a.m.
The house was quiet, as always. My "family" was still asleep – father, mother, and the perfect biological brother Ren, who hated me since the day I arrived. I made breakfast for the family, as always. Pancakes, eggs, fresh orange juice. But this time Hana was hidden in the attic, watching everything through the camera we installed the night before, whispering in my earpiece: "Make it pretty, love."
I put the GHB in the juice. A perfect dose – colorless, odorless, invisible. In twelve minutes the three of them were passed out at the table, heads thumping onto the plates with a satisfying thud. I laughed softly. Hana laughed with me in the earpiece.
We dragged them to the basement. Hana came down dancing, fresh purple lipstick, white bunny mask she found in an online sex shop.
— Hello, happy family! I'm Satori-kun's assistant today! And you're the special guests in what we call "family therapy."
I took the knife. Hana held the camera.
I started with the father:
— Dad, confess: did you ever want to kill Satori before Ren was even born? Because I was just the social trophy, right? The adopted kid to show you were "good people."
He groaned, still groggy, but Hana slapped his face to wake him more. I cut off one of his fingers. Blood sprayed. He screamed.
— Yes! Yes, I hated you!
I smiled.
— Good answer.
I turned to the mother:
— Mom, how many times did you think "if I hadn't adopted this boy…"? Because I was the mistake, right? The one who didn't fit in the perfect family.
She cried, I cut her arm.
— Every day! Every day I regretted it!
Hana laughed:
— Delicious truth.
I turned to Ren:
— Ren, how many animals did you kill to practice being evil? Because you hated me so much you beat me in secret, right?
He laughed groggily, I cut his ear.
— About 20… cats, dogs… to practice on you.
Every lie, a deeper cut. Every truth, a wider smile from us. Two hours later the three were unrecognizable – a mosaic of flesh, blood, and confessions I recorded on my phone to rewatch later.
Hana came close, whispered in my ear:
— Time for the grand finale, love.
We went upstairs. The ANFO drums had been in the pillars for days. Gasoline soaking everything. 30-minute timer + cell phone detonator.
Hana turned up the music to max volume: "The Show Must Go On" by Queen. We sat on the garden bench, hands clasped, watching the house.
— You know what's the best part? — she said, licking a red lollipop that now tasted like blood. — No one will know it was us. The police will think it was a gas leak. And we'll be at school on Monday, sitting in the same desk, laughing.
I squeezed her hand.
— And next time, the whole school will be the stage.
She laughed, kissed my cheek.
— Exactly. And then the world will meet the Smile Duo.