This is the sequel to the short story Inbox of Horror. If you haven't read it yet, you can read it here.
The flashing red and blue lights illuminated the wreckage, casting eerie shadows on Jason’s bloodstained hands. The weight of his actions crushed him as the police dragged him away from the mangled vehicle, his mind a storm of disbelief and rage. The words echoed in his head: A prank. A joke.
At the station, Jason sat in the interrogation room, staring blankly at the metal table. Officers spoke around him, but their voices faded into a distant hum. His world had collapsed in an instant. His boss was dead, and Ryan—the man he once called a friend—had played him like a fool. It wasn’t fear that consumed him anymore. It was something darker. Something calculating.
The trial was swift. Jason pleaded insanity, his lawyers arguing that the email had driven him into a state of uncontrollable fear. It worked—partially. Instead of a life sentence in prison, he was sent to the state psychiatric hospital for evaluation and treatment. But Jason knew the truth. He wasn’t insane. He was preparing.
Months passed in the sterile white walls of the hospital. Therapy sessions, medications, group activities—it was all a joke. He played along, feigning regret, pretending to be haunted by what he had done. The doctors bought into it, nodding in approval at his supposed progress. They didn’t see the fire smoldering behind his vacant eyes.
Ryan visited once, guilt etched into his face. “Jason... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Jason didn’t respond. He simply stared, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl. Ryan shifted uncomfortably, his voice breaking. “I swear, man, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Jason leaned forward, his voice low and controlled. “You destroyed my life.”
Ryan swallowed hard. “I—”
Jason cut him off, his smirk widening. “And one day, I’ll return the favor.”
Ryan left in a hurry. The fool had no idea. Jason had known it wasn’t a real threat. He had planned every part of it—the panic, the desperation, the crime. Ryan and his idiot friend thought they were playing a prank, but Jason had orchestrated the entire thing. Mr. Hendricks had always been his target. The email had just been the perfect excuse.
And Ryan? He was next.
Jason bided his time. He worked on gaining privileges, earning trust. Medication bottles were subtly emptied into the toilet. Therapy sessions became rehearsals. He manipulated his way into the doctors’ good graces, convincing them he was a man broken by his mistake. The months stretched into a year, and finally, the day arrived. The review board deemed him fit for release under strict probation.
As he stepped out of the hospital, the cool night air filled his lungs. Freedom. But he wasn’t interested in rebuilding his life. His real work was just beginning.
Ryan had moved on, trying to bury his guilt under a normal life. He had a job, a girlfriend, a future. He thought he was safe. Jason watched him from a distance, unseen, unnoticed. He had no intention of striking fast. No, Ryan deserved to suffer. Just like he had.
The game had begun, and this time, Jason was the one pulling the strings.
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