The Valedictorian’s Last Supper

I was the only college student Providence Hollow had produced in a century. My parents were dying of cancer, but to save every penny for my tuition, they refused to go to the hospital even once. When my little brother accidentally bumped into the piggy bank my mom had been religiously filling for me, she beat him so severely he couldn't get out of bed for three days. To scrape together my tuition fees, the entire town pooled their resources, emptying their life savings down to the last dime. Everyone said I was the pride of Providence Hollow. Unmatched and deeply loved. In the dead of countless nights, I secretly swore to myself that I would remember exactly what they had all done to me. So, the day I received my acceptance letter to Harvard, I took out all my savings and treated the entire town to a massive feast. A literal last supper. Looking at their twisted, contorted corpses scattered across the floor, tears streamed down my face as I knelt down and pressed my forehead to the blood-soaked floor three times. 01 The air was thick with the pungent stench of poison and the heavy metallic tang of blood. The sickening smell hit me right in the back of the throat. When the police sirens wailed outside, I was in the middle of inspecting the final body. It was Old Man Miller. The man who, when I was a little girl, always used to give me candy. He hadn't drank much of the spiked water, so the poison was acting slowly. His face, wrinkled like old tree bark, was tightly scrunched in agonizing pain. "Freeze! Step away from him!" Crack— As the police officer's roar echoed through the room, I cleanly snapped Old Man Miller's neck. With that, all ninety-eight residents of Providence Hollow—excluding myself—were dead. Not a single survivor. "Put your hands in the air! Hands behind your head! Do not resist!" Officers swarmed the room, surrounding me, the barrels of their guns locked squarely on my chest. I raised my hands, admiring my handiwork with a satisfied smile. I made no attempt to resist as the cold steel handcuffs clicked tightly around my wrists. On my way out, I casually kicked the corpses of my parents lying by my feet. "Gemma, why the hell did you do it?" In the interrogation room, the seasoned veteran, Detective Vance, asked me this question for the fifty-eighth time. Watching his grave, hardened expression, I gave a nonchalant shrug. "Detective, I already told you. I was doing society a favor. "Those old hags and geezers were useless alive anyway. They were just draining state resources. I took them out. Doesn't that count as community service?" "You take this seriously right now!" The young rookie taking notes, Officer Davies, couldn't stomach my attitude and slammed his hand on the table, barking at me. Detective Vance flipped through the thick stack of files in his hands, his face growing darker by the second. "Do you have any idea that your parents had cancer, but to save money for your education, they refused to get medical treatment even once?" "Oh?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Wow, I really didn't know that. But whatever, it doesn't matter. They were going to die from the cancer eventually anyway. That's an even bigger waste of resources. Rather than waiting for them to slowly die, it's better that I stepped up as a good citizen and put them out of their misery early." "And your grandmother! To ensure you had a comfortable life at an Ivy League school, she cashed out her burial fund just to pay for your books." "Ugh, don't even bring her up." My face darkened, showing visible annoyance. "That old bat hoarded money for years, pinching pennies, and she only handed me two hundred bucks. What, was she tossing spare change to a beggar?" Detective Vance choked on his own breath, completely taken aback by my brazen sense of entitlement. His face looked like he had just swallowed a fly. I let out a yawn and decided to finish his line of questioning for him. "I know what you're going to say next. You're going to say the Mayor, Old Man Miller, and Mrs. Higgins all did me favors, right? Yeah, well, I figured they'd be lonely in hell, so I sent them down together to keep each other company. "Tell me, Detective. Aren't I considerate?" "Enough!" Officer Davies slammed his hands onto the desk so hard he snapped his pen in half. "Gemma! Did all that elite education go straight to the gutter?! These people were your benefactors! Your own flesh and blood! And you sit here and laugh about massacring them? You are worse than an animal!" He stood up furiously, spitting on the floor in disgust. If he hadn't retained the last shred of his professional restraint as a cop, he probably would have lunged across the table and strangled me. But despite his fury, I wasn't scared in the slightest. "Officer, why are you so angry? If you're that upset about it, you can go down there and keep them company too." "You—!" The young cop's face flushed a violent crimson. His chest heaved rapidly before he finally lost it and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. "I can't interrogate her! Bring someone else in! This psycho makes my skin crawl!" I curled my lip. My absolute refusal to show remorse had dragged the interrogation into another dead end. But the older detective, Vance, still refused to give up. He tapped his fingertips against the metal table, his eagle-like eyes staring unblinkingly into mine. "Everything happens for a reason. Every effect has a cause. Gemma, if you confess the real truth right now, there might be a chance for you to plead out and get a reduced sentence." "A reduced sentence?" I looked at his dead-serious face and couldn't hold back a scoff, looking at him like he was an absolute idiot. "Hey, Detective. Do they not test IQs at the police academy anymore? I murdered nearly a hundred people. And you're sitting here trying to sell me a plea deal? Are you stupid?" "You're a lost cause!" Detective Vance finally hit his breaking point, his face turning an ugly shade of green as he stormed out and slammed the door. Two down. Tch. How boring. 02 When the heavy door to the interrogation room opened again, three hours had passed. This time, alongside the police, they brought a familiar face. My high school homeroom teacher, Miss Clara Evans. I thought she would look at me with the same deep disgust everyone else had. I didn't expect that the moment she saw me, her eyes would well up with tears. "Gemma... how could you do something like this?" She rushed forward, throwing her arms around me, sobbing uncontrollably. "Is there some secret behind all of this? Is there something they did to you? Sweetheart, what pain are you hiding in your heart? Tell me, please? I refuse to believe you would do something like this for no reason." Listening to her choked, sobbing voice, my face remained entirely blank. I lifted my eyes toward the intimidating, unfamiliar man standing in the doorway and gave a mocking grin. "What, you realized everyone who actually knew me is dead, so you went and dragged my teacher down here? The hard approach didn't work, so you're trying to play good cop?" The man’s dark eyes were unreadable as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "My name is Arthur Sterling. Deputy Chief of Investigations. The societal impact of this case is massive, and the nature of the crime is exceptionally heinous. From this point forward, I am leading your interrogation." Oh, so they brought in the heavy hitters. I rolled my neck lazily, ignoring the red, chafed skin around my handcuffed wrists. "Hey, Miss Evans. You should probably step out." Miss Evans froze, her eyes red as she stood up. Sterling tapped his pen against the metal desk. The rhythmic sound echoed like a judge’s gavel in purgatory. "Gemma, your academic records were flawless. Your behavioral records were perfect. Your teachers and peers all gave you the highest possible praise. "Furthermore, your psychological evaluations show zero abnormalities. You have no anti-social tendencies. So when you tell us you committed a mass murder for absolutely no reason... I don't buy it." He narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze practically piercing straight through my chest. But since I hadn't blinked while poisoning an entire town, I certainly wasn't going to be intimidated by a cop. "I thought the police were supposed to deal in evidence? If you think I'm lying, go find the proof. I've already told you everything there is to tell. I was just doing society a favor." "Gemma, this isn't right! You were such a good girl at school, why would you—" "Shut up!" I barked sharply, violently cutting off Clara Evans's sentence. "I don't need you speaking for me! Get out!" She jumped, terrified by the bloodshot, manic look in my eyes. Her lips trembled for several seconds before Sterling gave her a subtle nod. Weeping silently, she walked out of the room. Watching her back disappear through the door, my chaotic emotions slowly began to level out. When I shifted my gaze back, I realized Arthur Sterling was staring at me intently, as if refusing to miss a single micro-expression flitting across my face. "A model student with no criminal history and a perfect academic record suddenly commits a mass extermination." He pulled several sheets of paper from a manila folder. They were sketches—drawings of my posture and facial expressions from different angles during Vance's earlier interrogation. "I have to admit, you possess a psychological resilience and anti-interrogation awareness that is incredibly unnatural for someone your age. "But human micro-expressions don't lie. "Gemma. You are lying." The absolute certainty in his voice and the calculated confidence in his eyes made it clear he thought he had me entirely figured out. I found it laughable. "Deputy Chief, if someone as arrogant as you can make it to the top of investigations, the state police force must really be scraping the barrel." Sterling wasn't provoked by my sarcasm. He leaned forward. "Tell me I'm wrong." "Alright. You guessed it." The new note-taking officer sitting beside him clearly didn't expect me to fold that fast. He froze in shock. I glanced at the ticking clock on the wall, then back at Sterling. "I know you're the one pulling the strings here. If you agree to one condition, I will tell you the absolute truth." "You're a mass murderer! Do you honestly think you have the right to negotiate?! Deputy Chief Sterling, this girl is definitely plotting something. Do not agree to this!" Sterling raised an eyebrow, ignoring the furious note-taker beside him. He stayed silent for a moment before looking up at me. "Tell me what it is. If you're asking for a reduced sentence, the answer is no." I smiled. If I was afraid of dying, I wouldn't have killed them in the first place. "I don't want a reduced sentence. I just want to go outside and take a look." 03 I told Sterling I wanted to go to the observation deck of the Apex Tower, the tallest skyscraper in the city. They debated internally for two hours, but eventually, they agreed. Even though I would be handcuffed the entire time, it felt like a brief, fleeting moment of freedom. But I never expected the chaos that erupted the second we walked out the front doors of the precinct. The station was completely surrounded by an enraged mob of the public. The moment they saw me step outside, they looked like they wanted to tear me apart and eat me alive. "Look! It's the ungrateful psycho!" That single shout sent a tidal wave of fury through the crowd. People immediately started hurling whatever they had in their hands straight at me. Even with the police struggling to maintain a barricade, I was bombarded by rotten eggs, spoiled food, and trash. The disgusting stench exploded across my clothes and face. "You little monster! How dare you even show your face?! Kill her! Kill the animal!" "Officers, you can't let her live! Putting a bullet in her would be an insult to the bullet! She deserves to be tied to cars and ripped apart in the streets!" "Do you see this?" Sterling asked. "Your crime has caused a massive societal uproar. There are tens of thousands of people out there right now who want you dead. Even knowing that, do you still want to go out there?" I calmly wiped a streak of raw egg yolk off my cheek and looked at him. "I do." He frowned, clearly failing to understand my bizarre persistence. "Everyone, move!" Someone in the mob roared, and the chaotic crowd immediately parted to form a narrow path. Before I could even register what was happening, a bucket of unidentified, putrid liquid was hurled directly at my face. The suffocating, stinging stench of feces and urine instantly saturated the air. The person who threw it was a teenage boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He held an empty, filthy bucket in his hands, his face twisted in vicious righteousness. "Someone like you just being alive is polluting the air we breathe! Allow me to give you a wash!" The crowd went dead silent for a split second before erupting into deafening cheers and applause. Surrounded by their praise, the boy's chest puffed out in pride. He looked like a war hero who had just won a glorious battle. Meanwhile, I stood there, dripping with raw egg, spoiled soup, and a mixture of human waste. I smelled so foul that I felt utterly disconnected from the rest of the world. Watching the boy's triumphant, arrogant face, I suddenly lost all desire to go to the city. "Forget it. Let's go back inside." I turned my head and looked at Sterling, who had instinctively stepped back to avoid the splash zone. I didn't miss the brief flash of confusion in his eyes. "I originally just wanted to see it. I wanted to see what this big, beautiful city that everyone desperately tries to claw their way into actually looked like. But seeing these people right now... I suddenly realized it's really nothing special." I pushed a strand of filth-soaked hair behind my ear, desperately trying to cling to my last shred of dignity. "So, I have no interest in seeing it anymore. "Let's go back inside, Deputy Chief." 04 Because I was a high-risk mass murderer, my handcuffs couldn't be removed. Combined with the fact that everyone in the precinct was deeply disgusted by me, absolutely no one was willing to help me wash off the human waste. Except for one person: Clara Evans. She hadn't left. Instead, she volunteered to help clean me up. Right now, acting as though she possessed no sense of smell whatsoever, she scrubbed me meticulously from head to toe. Watching her, I gave a hollow, sneering laugh. "Miss Evans, why are you always so obsessed with sticking your nose in other people's business?" She didn't answer. She just stayed silent and continued wiping the grime off my arms. A few female janitors passing by couldn't stomach the sight. They stopped and glared at me with pure venom. "Miss Evans, why are you bothering to help that ungrateful little psychopath? Her kind doesn't remember anything good anyone ever does for her. For what she did, dying a hundred times wouldn't be enough!" "Yeah, exactly! She deserves to rot and die covered in her own filth!" I thought Clara Evans would nod along and join in their disgust. Instead, she threw the washcloth directly onto the wet floor. A rare flash of genuine anger appeared on her usually gentle face. "Is the case closed?" "What?" "I asked you: is the case closed?" The janitors exchanged confused glances. Clara Evans continued, her voice sharp. "You work in a police station. You are surrounded by the law every single day. Do you really lack the most basic understanding of the legal system? Even if my student is guilty, the law will judge her and pass a sentence. It is not your place to stand here and gossip like vultures." The women stayed silent for a second before bursting into mocking laughter, looking at Clara like she was insane. "Wow. I actually thought this woman was normal. Turns out she's an idiot trying to save a rabid dog." "Whatever. Why are we even talking to her? It's not like the psycho appreciates it." "Guess we were just being nosy. Makes sense, though. What kind of 'good teacher' raises a mass murderer anyway?" Rolling their eyes, the women walked out of the washroom. I glanced at the back of Clara Evans's head, fully prepared to throw out a few more sarcastic insults. Instead, she silently walked behind me. Her long, slender fingers gently combed through my wet hair. She took the small, floral hair tie she always wore on her wrist and expertly twisted my hair into a neat braid. She wasn't bothered by my terrible attitude in the slightest. "A teacher for a day is a parent for a lifetime. Whether you acknowledge me as your teacher or not, the fact that things ended up this way means I failed to teach you properly." My allotted shower time was short, but she continued to murmur to me softly. She talked about little, mundane things from high school. Tiny things. She even remembered the time in biology lab when I managed to nurse a dying, withered sapling back to life. So annoying. "Gemma, time's up." It wasn't until a police officer knocked on the door that her hands finally stopped. Wearing cold, heavy shackles once more, I began walking toward the interrogation room—my final judgment. "Gemma." Clara Evans suddenly called out to me. "There's one last thing I want to say to you." I didn't stop walking. I just thought to myself: God, this woman is so annoying. I'm about to get the death penalty, and she still wants to give me a boring moral lecture. "Happy birthday." My entire body violently stiffened. "Gemma. Happy 18th birthday, sweetheart." Her voice, laced with the gentle, quiet warmth of a peaceful life, acted like a razor-sharp sword, slicing directly through the impenetrable walls around my heart. The officer escorting me paused, shooting her a strange look. "Such a nice lady. How the hell did she end up teaching a monster like you? So weird." I turned a deaf ear to his muttering. It wasn't until a hot drop of liquid splashed against the back of my handcuffed wrists that I snapped back to reality. I closed my eyes and mocked myself internally. Looks like I lost after all. The soft approach... it really does work. "Hey, Officer," I whispered, aggressively wiping my tears away on my shoulder. I tugged lightly at his uniform. "Take me to Deputy Chief Sterling. I'm ready to tell the truth." When the other officers heard that the toughest, most uncrackable suspect in the precinct was finally willing to talk, they secretly crowded around the observation window to watch. Even though there were only two people in the room with me—Sterling and the note-taker—I knew there were dozens of eyes watching from behind the two-way glass. The note-taking officer grumbled in annoyance. "What kind of 'hidden truth' could there possibly be? She's just a pure psychopath. I bet you anything she's just going to spit out more sick lies." Despite his complaints, his eyes remained glued to me. I looked up at the ceiling and suddenly let out a laugh. It started as a low, quiet chuckle and quickly escalated into hysterical, manic laughter. Soon, involuntary tears were streaming down my face. Just as everyone in the room became convinced I had completely lost my mind... I opened my mouth and dropped a sentence that shattered everyone's reality. 05 "Hunter is my son."