My dad Used to Kill a Lot of People.

I went into my dad's room. His weak and crazy spirit moved through his dead body.

"Hi. "How do we feel today?"

"Hey, kid. I really do feel better."

I don't like that.

It's been on my mind to talk to you about something, Dad. I've always meant to file a report on you and hand you in. But I was afraid you'd hurt me like you hurt them.

"Tell me what you really mean."

"Right now, I'm not scared of you. I want to know about the women you killed.

"Whaa…?" His confused speech was cut off by a cough.

"Please remember." You have a chance to finally make the world a better place by giving the families of the victims peace.

Say, "I didn't kill anyone!" He let out a cough.

Putting more stress on this than I thought.

"Dad, DNA was found where the crime happened. Everyone knows it's yours; you were careless and made a mistake. They will compare the DNA to yours if you agree. "The police need a little more to really hang you on the wall."

I asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you have to pay now"

Dad began to cry.

"I'm so sorry, I can't believe this."

"One more thing." Those many years ago. One of the people you hurt. They found her dead body. She had lost a lock of hair. Just…