Chapter 23
Detective Castillo had texted me: “ Call me when you can.”
I replied with a “thumbs up emoji.” I had no intention of responding to her.
I found a gift box on the front door of my house as my watch struck midnight. I couldn’t stay long at all. I grabbed it and ran back into the forest, like a wild animal—streaked with blood after killing its prey.
I found a spot in the snow and collapsed—exhausted both physically and mentally from everything that had happened. I had killed George, Joseph, and Mayor Hamonte. I had become a monster.
I stared at my blood-soaked hands and shuddered.
What have you done to me?
I tore open the gift box and found the red envelope, tearing it open. It said: CLUE #12: “You’re almost there, release the pain you’ve been forced to bear. Find the truth of them all, all of my pretty little dolls.”
Inside the box were photos and official documents that were spilled out like evidence of a cover-up: victims posed beside painted dolls, a female officer’s old photo, and a younger me with Lincoln, my brother, grinning like we owned the world. Old police records, stamped: “CONFIDENTIAL.”
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The records explained how Colton Kilhouser had killed my family: Peter, Maria and Lincoln Frost. He had been admitted into the Gibraltar Institute and “died” due to an accident. The files were signed by Detective Castillo and stamped by Councilman Hamonte.
It explained how Doctor Thomas T. Tuttle orchestrated Colton Kilhouser’s death to use him and mold him into a killer for his own nefarious purposes: to kill his rivals, critics, medical professionals, and journalists who had spoken out against him and his research methods.
Colton had “died”, but only to the public. In the institute, he was still alive, being used and manipulated by Doctor Tuttle. After so many years, the truth had been unveiled. All the pieces were fitting together.
Doctor Tuttle molded Colton into the Dollhouse Killer.
That threw my mind into a whirlwind of emotions. I had been lied to all along.
Inside the box, there was a small empty dollhouse as well, and across its roof someone had scrawled in red: “You will become me.”
As I sat on the snow-covered ground, hopelessly alone and afraid, faced with the darkest moment of my entire life, I allowed the truth to uncover itself in my mind.
They tricked me—manipulated me into believing that Colton Kilhouser had died all those years ago.
Doctor Tuttle used him like a puppet to do his bidding. Colton had most likely had enough, and that’s why he was terrorizing the town…but why me? What had I done to Colton to warrant all of this madness?
I’d soon find out. I needed more answers, but I couldn’t move. I was utterly destroyed, my body in a state of complete fatigue. I tried my best to keep my eyes open, but I failed. I soon drifted into a deep sleep.
I was suddenly in my old living room on Christmas Day, standing near the dead bodies of my foster parents, Peter and Maria Frost. The dark figure in the red coat and the plastic Santa mask was nowhere to be seen.
The boy standing in front of me looked like myself, he was holding a bloodied pointed star. He was breathing heavily, his Christmas pajamas streaked with blood. I felt nauseous as my vision grew hazy, bile rising from my stomach.
Wait…am I Colton Kilhouser? All of my blackouts…it makes sense, even if I don’t want it to.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I truly didn’t think I was capable.
It was all coming back to me now, the traumatic memory I had blocked out for so many years—the altered, manipulated scene that had been instilled and ingrained in my head by the adults that were around me in the aftermath of the tragedy.
Tears ran down my face as I faced an inevitable truth: my life was over. “Why me? Why?! Why would I do this?!” I screamed at myself.
The boy dropped the pointed star and looked at me with misty eyes. “I…I don’t know. I got mad and…I’m a monster. Come with me, Lenny. Come with me. We have to leave. The police will be here any second. We can protect each other.”
I shook my head and stepped back, fear strangling my chest. “No, I can’t. Look what you’ve done. You killed them!”
The boy ran his fingers through his hair, not believing what he had just done. “Please, Lenny. We didn’t mean to. All we wanted were the dolls. They never gave them to us. They always kept us locked away. We snapped…we couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry.”
He tried to step forward, but I screamed at him. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t regard myself as human after that moment of darkness. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I hate you. I hate you!” I shouted.
He was taken aback by that and fell to the ground, his legs becoming weak. “We’ll remember this, Lenny. We’ll remember.”
I jerked awake, my head hitting the snow on the ground. As my eyes fluttered open, I was still surrounded by the dark. I thought about what I had just dreamed before I’d forget it. That was the voice I had been hearing all this time, my own voice.
I knew why I was exacting revenge. I was punishing myself for what I had done…20 years ago.