It was a rainy night. The room was thick with silence, the kind that presses against your skin. On the TV, the weather forecast warned of an incoming storm. Dim lights flickered in the living room, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Dominic and Vivienne Hale sat stiffly on the sofa, their faces pale, drawn tight with fear. But it wasn’t the storm that had them on edge. It was something far worse—something unspoken, lurking beyond the rain. Even the soft patter against the windows made them flinch.
Then—the doorbell rang.
They looked at each other in alarm. Dominic stood slowly, as if weighed down by dread. Vivienne clutched the edge of her sweater and whispered, “Don’t go... I’ll check.”
He gave her a slow nod.
She approached the door monitor, hands trembling. She pressed the button and asked, “Who’s there?”—her voice barely steady.
Silence.
Then, a figure appeared on the screen—standing still, unmoving. Dressed in a delivery uniform, face completely hidden behind a plain black mask. No name, no features. Just a voice, muffled ;
“Pizza delivery.”
Vivienne stepped back immediately.
“Did you order pizza?” she asked Dominic.
“No… why would I?” he answered, voice tight, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
Just then, footsteps echoed from the stairs. Their son—Jonas Hale—came rushing down.
“Is it pizza?” he asked eagerly.
Vivienne nodded, visibly shaken, and stepped away with Dominic. The tension seemed to lift—just slightly.
Jonas opened the door and took the box from the masked figure.
“I hope there’s no pineapple in here,” he joked, flipping the lid open.
Inside wasn’t pizza.
It was an antique revolver, cradled in dark red velvet.
He froze, gasping.
The delivery person reached out—no hesitation, no delay—and took the gun.
BANG.
Jonas’s body dropped to the floor.
Couple’s POV
Both of them stepped into the living room—shaken, silent.
The husband sank onto the sofa, resting his head against the backrest, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.
“Is this really the time to order pizza?” he muttered, voice tight with frustration. “He’s wasting money. Didn’t he already have dinner? We’re barely holding it together as it is…”
The wife, slowly making her way to the armchair, replied softly, “I know. He’s just a ki—”
BANG.
The sound cut through the house like lightning. She froze mid-step, breath caught in her throat.
The husband jolted upright on the sofa, spine rigid, not daring to move.
A slow, deliberate voice echoed from the hallway.
"Tsk, tsk... What kind of creature have you been raising with your bloody money?”
Footsteps.
The masked figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the living room like they owned it.
The wife turned around, hands trembling, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
Then they saw it.
Their son’s body—limp, bloodied—dragged into the room by another masked figure and thrown like trash at their feet.
The husband staggered back, horrified.
The wife collapsed to her knees with a strangled sob.
And the nightmare had only just begun.
“What have you done?!” Vivienne screamed, her voice raw, collapsing to her knees.
The masked figure stepped further into the room, revolver still warm in their grip.
“Got rid of some dead weight for you,” they said, walking over to the sofa and plopping down like they owned it. “Aren’t you already having a hard time?”
Dominic stumbled forward, falling beside his son.
“Why?” he choked out. “Why are you doing this?”
“Tsk, tsk… Hale, Hale, Hale,” the killer sighed, wiping the blood off the revolver. “That’s not what you ask your guest.”
Vivienne rose in rage. She lunged—but a hulking man stepped from the shadows, catching her mid-attack.
“Whoa, calm down,” the killer smirked. “He was just your stepson, Vivienne Hale. Chill.”
“You son of a bitch,” she spat. “He was my son! I raised him!”
BANG.
She dropped with a sickening thud.
“Oof,” the killer muttered. “She was loud. How did you put up with her, Dominic?”
Dominic stood frozen, trembling. His family lay dead around him.
With shaking legs, he fell before the masked figure.
“Please... please let me go,” he begged. “Take my company, take my money—everything. Just let me live.”
The killer leaned forward, grinning beneath the mask.
“Wow. I didn’t know you could beg. Cute."
A pause.
“Thing is… I already have your company. Your money. Everything.”
They met his eyes.
“What I really want… is you.”
Their eyes met . Dominic saw
HIS DEATH .
BANG.
Dominic Hale fell beside the bodies of his wife and son.
The killer leaned back against the sofa.
“Should we get rid of the bodies?” the bulky man asked.
“No,” the killer said. “Call cops. Tell them the Hale family met their end.”
A long pause.
“…Also, did you have dinner?”they asked, as if they hadn’t just erased an entire legacy.
End of chapter 1
Who was the killer? What was their intention? What did HALE family do , to deserve it? Many questions yet to Answer. Stay tuned
-NYX
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