Author’s Note: This is an original, cleaned-up version of my sick, crappy mind. My current project. Very happy with the current results so far.

She was always the neglected one after that incident. Even at school, she was always pushed aside. Always the outcast, always sitting alone in a quiet corner in the library during recess because nobody wanted to be with her. Especially since they knew who her father was: the notorious ‘Knife’, who rode on his dark motorcycle, shiny, silver-handled kitchen knife in hand, stabbing targets that only he knew why he had chosen. Who would choose to have the daughter of a murderer as their friend? She did not blame them; rather, she cursed her father for having brought such misery, anguish and loneliness. She wished, just for once, that her father had never been caught.

She often thought of the time when her father would come home daily, dressed in suits as the respectable manager of a small company, only to leave home after tucking her into bed in his dark leather jacket, dark pants and boots. She never knew what the company was, would now never know because it became defunct after he was caught. Beneath his dark attire, he wore a dark wetsuit.

His modus operandi was always similar. On the each full moon, go to the night gym, strip off outer garments, place them in gym locker, go out into the night to hunt for his prey, return, wash up and go home. Even the police were baffled by these routine, all of them thinking, “Surely such a predictable killer would have been easily caught earlier.” However, for many moons, none could fathom the mystery behind these killings: even the motives remained unclear, for the victims were old men, heads of various small companies, a few youths and once, a pregnant lady. At each scene, there were no witnesses. This killer hunted well. The whole community was soon wrecked with uncontrollable panic, nobody daring to venture out into the dark, not even rising from their beds in the dark, as if the Knifer could enter their homes.

However, in her household, there was no unnecessary panic. Her mother took precautions of course, not knowing that she was probably in the safest place to stay and the least likely to get killed by the Knife even if she was the only person alive. He was a family man and was deeply in love with her. The daughter was also the other person he treasured above everything else, his only child.

She remembered waking up once, seeing her father’s dark silhouette against the frame of the dark, his shoulders broad, his huge hands gripping the strap of his bulging duffel bag, his twinkling eyes shining in the unearthly darkness past midnight.

“Daddy, you went out again,” she had said.

Her father smiled at her, his teeth shining as he smiled lovingly at his daughter. “Daddy just likes the night. Go back to sleep. Nothing will harm you.”

Nothing will harm you. Nothing… will… harm… you… Those were the exact same words he had yelled to her when he was sentenced to hang for the murder of thirteen people. The invincible Knife was going to die. He had given out the identity of his family. He was going to into peaceful oblivion. Yet, it was his family who would face his consequences, unless of course, he managed to strike fear again.

And strike again he did. He escaped. The community was once again thrown into panic, everything falling into disarray. The Knife was at large. The police tried to get at his family, but he struck again, leaving the message loud and clear. The police finally took the hint and stayed clear of his family. But he was never caught...

She still wishes that she could see her father again, despite the hurt and betrayal he caused her. He was after all, still her father, and he never once did try to show his dark side to her. Her only wish was for everything to become normal again. But what is normal, for the daughter of the worst psychopath in history, the Knife?

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