Mr. Doug’s old body cracked as he got down on his knees in front of the little boy, “All I need for you to do is to be honest with yourself.” 

The little boy looked into Mr. Doug's eyes. He had dark blue eyes that were exactly the same as his own, down to the shade of color. 

Mr. Doug chuckled, “I know we have the same eyes. It must be fate that we met tonight of all nights.” He gestured towards his hand, “I’ll ask one last time. Why couldn’t you shoot me?” 

The boy stood up straight and gripped Mr. Doug’s hand, “I didn’t want to.”

“So you killed your father because you wanted to?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t want to kill me?”

The boy thought about their first meeting upstairs in the master bedroom a little more. He remembered how he felt, the fear and the excitement. “I guess I did intend to kill whoever broke in to keep my secret. But when I saw that it was you I couldn’t for some reason.”

Mr. Doug shook the boy’s hand, “It was fate that brought us together this night of all nights, and it was fate that you didn’t kill me.”

The little boy all of the sudden could hear the screeching of tires outside the home. The sound of car doors opening could be heard from the street in front and behind the home. They were completely surrounded. The people the little boy called earlier that night were here now. Mr. Doug could see the pure terror written across the boy’s face as he realized what he had done. His action's he had done earlier tonight only to hinderg him in the present.

“Don’t worry I knew that you called the police,” Mr. Doug patted the boy’s head, “You have nothing to worry about.”

The boy was shocked, “If you knew why didn’t you leave?”

Mr. Doug erupted into laughter, “I wondered that too.”

The truth was Mr. Doug was full of shit, and he had no idea the child called the police. He had really lost his artsitic touch, but he was still to prideful to admit it.

Mr. Doug looked down at his old wrinkled hands. He listened as his bones cracked as he tried to stand up, but couldn’t. He could hardly recognize his own body anymore. When had he grown so old? 

“Before I even realized it, I planted evidence on me to connect me to both of your parent's murders. I picked up the knife you used as a paintbrush in the kitchen, I took a picture of your father which is my signature for my art, and I have them both in my pocket. I'm the perfect suspect to place all the blame on.”

Mr. Doug chuckled, “And I will tell them that it was I who killed your mother. You are all set.”

Mr. Doug grabbed the little boy's head and faced it towards his own, “My passion for art ended before I even realized it, but your journey has just started.”

The sound of footsteps could be heard throughout the home. They listened as the police gathered around the basement door, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Unfortunely for them, the sound echoed down the stairs to the two of them. The little boy’s body began to tremble, he couldn't tell if it was because of fear or excitement.

“Thank you, my little masterpiece.” Mr. Doug smiled, not like how he smiled earlier this evening. The smile was not fake nor was it sad. For the first time in decades, Mr. Doug genuinely smiled at someone. Who would have thought such a man still had a heart? Maybe it was because the little boy was just like him as a child. 

Mr. Doug had a sense of fear come over him as he felt his body start to go limp. His eyes went shut, and before he even realized it, he fell to the floor. 

The police cautiously walked down the stairs to see a child standing over the notorious serial killer, who laid dead at his feet.