The last thing he heard after he left was the lady's laugh. The sound was so sweet to his his ears, and he forgot the whole ordeal. If she weren't always so sad, she might actually be attractive.

Wait, what did he just think? He couldn't believe he even thought of her like that. She looked hideous.

But her laugh, he trailed off.

Feeling stupid, he drove back to his house, and took a long nice shower. It took a while for him to scrub the dirt off, and even after an hour, he still smelled of baby milk.

Was there even something like that, he thought. Apparently there was.

The moment he thought about the baby, he remembered the lady's laugh. He didn't know why it affected him so much.

He went to the kitchen and looked at the family tree. Of all the names, there were three names that stood out.

Parker Truck

Priscella Audi

Utopia Merian

Looking them up, he was dismayed that he couldn't find a proper address. But he remembered what Sherene told him.

"Markett's entire family lives in this town. We are a huge tightly knit family, even if we don't meet often, " Sherene said, when enquired about the history of her family surname.

Markett was the name of his house owner.

At that time, all he could think about was consoling her. Now, he realized that they were all in the same town. It strengthened his resolve to succeed in his killing. But where will he find them?

Frustrated, and confused, Joey decided to go out to the park. He had four days left. He decided to work on it the next day.

After drinking some coffee, he walked to the park. It was just a few blocks away. It was six in the evening, and the weather was very beautiful.

The sound of children screaming, and parents shouting was music to his ears. He never had a child of his own. Although he disliked babies, more so after his encounter with Piella, he liked children. They reminded him of his lost childhood, and he wished to see what his could have been through them.

Taking out his iPod, he plugged in his earphones, and started listening to music. He walked to a nearby bench and sat down. Sitting beside him was an old man, snoring. Joey tried to move a little away, but the man snored so loudly, even after he blared the volume on his iPod, it was drowned by his snore.

Not being able to withstand it any more, he got up, trying to shift to another place. Far across the park, there was a single seat remaining on a bench. Running to the bench, he missed the seat by a few milliseconds.

A five year old beat him to it. Joey scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. As he looked around, he could feel a few stares, and some of them mockingly looking at him.

"Good job, little fellow, you should go for the Olympics," Joey said, patting the boy on the head.

The boy started crying and ran to his mother.

"Now, now, Parker, what's wrong?" his mother asked.

Joey tuned out the conversation as he stopped by an ice cream cart to get himself a mango duet. All that running had made him thirsty.

Minutes later, Parker came running back to him, tugging him on the leg. Joey tried to walk away, but the boy had clung to his leg.

"PARKER TRUCK, get back her right now, " his mother called out.

Normally Joey would have curtly nodded to the lady, and minded his own business. But this was an exception.

Parker Truck.

Where had he heard that name before? Curious, Joey looked down to the boy who was looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

"What ice cream might the superman want," Joey asked him.

Parker instantly lighted up, screaming "Cookie dough, cookie dough."

Joey chuckled. He had to admit, the little boy was enormously cute.

"One cookie dough for this young gentleman here," Joey said, to the ice cream vendor.

The vendor clicked his tongue, muttering that children these days were spoilt. But hey, why was he complaining anyway? It was his job.

The vendor handed the ice cream to Joey, who bent down to hand it over to Parker.

"You needn't have done that, " the woman said, walking to him. "I'm Cynthia Truck." She held out her hand.

Joey shook it. "I'm Joey Millers. It's fine. He's a good kid. I heard you call out his name. Where might have I heard it before?"

Cynthia looked startled for a second, and then brightened. "You must have heard of him cause of his uncle Markett," she said.

"Ahhh, yes, he came in the newspaper once, right?" Joey was bluffing, but the woman didn't notice.

"Yes! Can't believe you read about it. It was in the tiny corner of the Bulgarian times. Are you a Bulgarian?"

Joey blinked. He didn't know what to say. "Er, yes. Yes I am, " he said, proudly.

"Wow. So am I. My husband's side of the family is American though. KAK CTE? " she said.

He was in deep trouble. "Eh hehe?" he asked, awkwardly.

Mrs. Truck looked puzzled. "Don't know Bulgarian?"

"My grandmother does. I've been brought up here all my life though."

"Ah, I see. Why don't we sit down somewhere. "

Joey shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said.

Cynthia and Joey sat down, and looked around, in silence. The sun was almost going down, and people were leaving for the day. The park was as wide as a football ground. There were a line of benches that circumferenced the park, and in the middle, was a wide green lawn. Children were playing Frisbee with their dogs, couples were sitting down, talking, and others were just sitting, relaxed.

They talked for a little while, and Joey said he had to leave. Looked like he wasn't going to be able to kill him any way. The woman said goodbye, and as he got up, he pricked himself with a nail which was open, on the bottom side of the bench.

"Ouch," he cried out, sucking his finger.

Mrs. Truck inhaled sharply. Telling Joey to take care of her son as she left. In a few seconds, she was out of their site.

Joey was exhilarated. He finally had a chance.

"Guess it's just you and me eh," Joey asked Parker. "Where did your mother go?"

Parker covered his eyes. He pointed to the area behind the forest.

The sun had gone down, and just behind the park was a forest. Picking Parker up, he checked to see if anyone was looking, and headed to the forest.

Five minutes later, Joey and Parker were in the middle of the forest.

Seizing his opportunity, Joey covered Parker's mouth trying to cut off his air supply.

For thirty seconds, Parker thrashed left and right, and suddenly he went limp.

Surprised, Joey took his hand off.

Immediately, the boy sprang out of his hands and landed on the ground upright. The next minute he started attacking Joey, biting him everywhere.

"Oww! oww!" Joey whimpered.

"Parker. Stop that. What are you doing here Joey? I thought I asked you wait there. " a voice called out.

"Mrs. Truck, is that you?" Joey asked.

Mrs. Truck appeared before him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by then.

Parker ran to his mother.

The next thing scarred Joey for life.

The mother had some red stuff smeared all over her mouth.

Wiping her mouth she spoke to Parker. "Come on, Parker," Cynthia told him. "Let's leave."

Parker took his mother's hand. He glared at Joey, his eyes darkening.

"Are you coming or not?" Cynthia asked Joey.

Paralyzed with fear, he stood still. He couldn't believe what he just saw.

"Okay suit yourself," she shrugged.

Cynthia and Parker turned around, and went further into the forest.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he went the other direction, only to hear a low soft growl.

Of a lion.

"Wait for me, "Joey hollered, as he headed deeper into the forest, trailing behind Cynthia.

Cynthia guided them through the forest, taking them left and right.

"Why can't we run like we usually do," Parker asked his mother innocently. "My legs are hurting," he whined.

"Shh, Parker, Joey is our guest. He can't run, so we are walking with him," she said.

Joey felt insulted.

"I'm very well aware of the fact that your son beat me to the bench by five seconds, but that doesn't mean I can't run, " he huffed.

Cynthia chuckled. "He didn't mean that run," she said, kindly.

Joey paled. He had his own doubts.

They soon stopped near a creak.

On the other side of the creak was a beautiful Victorian house. It was two stories high, and about three grounds wide. What shocked Joey the most, was that the house was decorated with animal skin.

"I hope you're not a vegetarian," Cynthia said.

Joey gulped. "No, but I certainly don't eat bear."

Cynthia chose to ignore that as she untied a canoe, and urged Joey to get on.

Fighting an involuntary fear building up, he got inside.

The creak was about 30 feet wide. It wasn't wide, but it definitely can't be swam across without getting wet.

Once they reached the bank, Parker took out the rope, and helped his mother tie it.

They were welcomed by a very hearty laugh.

"How is my son doing," Mr. Truck said, lifting his son up.

Cynthia pecked him on the lips and asked him when he had come home.

"Just a few minutes before, " he said, before turning to look at his guest.

"Did you bring home dinner," Mr. Truck asked, kissing Cynthia on the cheek. "He looks delicious, but a bit scrawny, don't you think?"

Was Mr. Truck talking about him, Joey thought. His mind was shouting scream!

"Oh sweetie, don't scare him off," Cynthia said, looking at Joey. She told him to come inside.

Joey was in heaven. The house was gorgeous. It was most definitely a very expensive house, filled with the most exquisite antiques. Definitely a house owned by vampires. He shuddered.

As they walked inside, Joey found a trail of blood from the hallway into the kitchen. They looked like footprints, and Joey gulped.

The Trucks seemed oblivious to everything that was happening around them. "Dinner will be served soon. I assume you are staying for dinner, right?" Mrs. Truck asked.

Joey mutely nodded. Words couldn't find their way out of his mouth.

Parker sat as far as possible from Joey, knowing his intentions were bad. He didn't understand why his parents were being so civil to the man who had just tried to kill him. Not that he would have ever succeeded. But just saying. He turned the TV on to Disney Channel.

Soon, dinner was ready, and Mr. Truck invited them all to the dining room. He didn't know what to expect. Human limbs? Joey felt like puking.

After being comfortably seated, Mrs. Truck placed the dishes on the table. When she opened it, Joey gagged at the gruesome site.

They were chopped up limbs, all right?

But of a giraffe.

Joey politely refused the main course, and stuck to the salad, and soup.

"Joey says he's Bulgarian." Cynthia told her husband, quite excitedly.

"Wow. Which part are you from?" Mr. Truck asked him.

Joey stammered. "Erm, north."

Cynthia looked at him in confusion. "There's only east and west. You meant east, right?"

"Yes. Yes yes yes. East, " Joey tried to say, confidently.

Mr. Truck narrowed his eyes. "So what are you doing? What is your occupation?"

As Mr. Truck kept questioning him, he seemed less and less impressed with his answers. Cynthia didn't find anything fishy however.

Dessert was served and it was time for Joey to leave. Mr. and Mrs. Truck were whispering in their room.

"It's thighs are fat," Mr. Truck said, pleading his wife.

"Sounds delicious," Mrs. Truck said dreamily.

Joey flinched. Great, now they were referring to him as an it. He looked at his limbs, and wondered if it were fat. People called him scrawny though.

Parker looked across him and sniggered. He guessed what Joey thought.

A huge thud was sounded, and Mr. Truck came out. "Okay, shall I drop you off," he asked, Joey.

"Sweetheart, don't ask him. Just do it," Mrs. Truck said. Her patience was wearing thin.

"Alrighty then. Let's go."

Joey swallowed. He prayed to God that he would make it out of this alive.

The journey was uneventful. They canoed back, and once Mr. Truck dropped Joey off at the end of the forest, he said,softly, "My last warning to you. I don't know who you are or what you're doing, with my wife and son, but never EVER come back here again."

Joey didn't need to be told twice. In a matter of few seconds, he fled the scene.