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August 16th, 2000...

Police are still investigating, but it seems that the fires aren't accidents. They have found the charred remains of matches in many of the previous orphanages, and say that since the structural integrity of the matches is so poor, they cannot do a fingerprint scan. Only one survivor has come from each orphanage, a lone boy between the ages of 9-11. He claims that "Someone killed his friends [with a big knife] and then lights the house on fire, but escapes before being caught. The boy, whose name is Jake McSmith, says that he was "Tall, and he wore a long coat and hat. He had a mask with a messed-up eye on the right and an X on the left, with a smile with shark teeth." Next month, after rehabilitation, Jake will be moved to another orphanage in Minnesota."

September 24th, 2000...

International Falls, Minnesota

Jake McSmith was not happy. But he was never happy. He was always bored and sullen. Jake always tried to find ways to get out of the orphanage gates. His mind hurts him. He always has intense headaches that keep him bed-bound for weeks. He refuses to let anyone cut his long, blonde bed head. He won't let anyone clean his pale white skin. And his eyes. The eyes themselves are large, but the irises and pupils are tiny and red. He's always tire, even if he gets a long, 9-hour sleep.

Whenever Jake is happy, he's a strange boy. His large smile unnerves the other orphanage kids. He doesn't call them "boys". He calls them orphanage kids. He doesn't like any of them. They don't like him. They bully him. They beat him, they kick him, spit on him, call him hurtful names. He cries. For days on end. Then, there comes the time one of them has a birthday party.

Jake McSmith is not happy. He's done this many times before; he lost count after the 10th time. But every time, he doesn't want to. By then, Other Jake is already there. His pupils dilate. His psychotic smile appears on his face. He thinks he talks to Other Jake in his mind, but he says everything out loud.

"Are you ready" asked Other Jake. "Do you really want to do this?" asks Jake. Other Jake nods and says "You've done this already, millions and gazillions of times!" "Yeah, but I don't like doing it..." "But don't you want to experience what it's like to have a birthday?" asked Other Jake. Jake was convinced. "Okay, Other Jake." He shouldn't have said that. He slipped, and he knew it. Other Jake completely took over his body. Jake reached... No, Other Jake reached for the cabinet...

...And grabs on to the knife holder. Other Jake had incredible balance, thought Jake. Other Jake chose carefully. He grabbed a medium-sized knife, one with a serrated tip. This is not the one he would use. It would help, though.

Other Jake snuck down the hallway to the headmaster's room. He snuck in their at night to study him while he slept, to know just the perfect way to release him. Other Jake quietly tiptoed to the headmaster's bed, and looked at him with interest. Was he really about to do this? Of course he was. He slowly put the knife touched the headmaster's neck, and when he felt the snore vibrating in the neck, pulled back with such force that the knife tore the throat out. Other Jake was suddenly a bloody mess. So was the dead headmaster, his bed, and the floor. Other Jake didn't care. He yanked the lanyard off the headmaster's neck, and took out a single, old, rusted key. He quietly opened one of the drawers, and found a large chest. He shoved the key in, and turned the lock. It clicked open. He pulled off the top and saw a large, sharp Bowie knife with Other Jake's reflection smiling back at him.

He was already at the bully's room. The knife in hand, a rag in the other. He slid the knife through the crack in the side of the door, and cut the lock off. He silently walked in. Suddenly, the bully shot up. He had a nightmare about a psycho murderer that tried to kill him with a big knife. Then he saw the familiar shadow of a little boy next to his bed. He turned on his lamp and saw Jake McSmith standing next to his bed. He asked what he was doing there, when he suddenly pounced on him and shoved a rag down his throat. He started choking. Jake put his finger to his mouth and made a "shoosh" noise, and said "Be quiet... Tomorrow is your birthday, right?" The bully was confused, but he nodded. Jake then said "Well, then, lucky you, I have the perfect present!" He then started stabbing him in the left side of his stomach. The bully started to scream, but the rag blocked it. Jake seemed so in depth, it was crazy to think the short kid was killing him. Jake started to slice his stomach open. He leaned him over on one side, with such unimaginable strength for such a small boy. The organs spilled halfway out, but stopped, because they all got jammed in the hole. Jake put him back down. He grabbed his intestines with his bare hands. "Worthless." he said angrily, and pulled it out. "All worthless!" he exclaimed as he reached into the gash and pulled out organ after organ. Stomach, kidney, spleen, liver. Then, Jake made the gash larger. The bully was crying furiously now, the pain was unbearable. Jake grabbed a lung, and squeezed. Then the bully realized something. Jake was toying with him. He was causing the pain on purpose. Jake pulled slowly, then yanked, and was holding a lung. He tossed it behind him. After a few minutes, Jake had made the gash go all around the perimeter of the bully's body. Then Jake did the unthinkable. He grabbed the skin, and started to peel it off his body. After about two minutes, the bully was half skin, half muscle. The pain. Unbearable. He was slowly dying, he knew that. There was no way out. Then Jake stabbed the other lung and pulled it out. The bully couldn't breathe. Then, Jake puts the tip of the knife right on top of the forehead of the bully's fleshy body. He slowly forced it in, until he touched the skull. Then he slowly pulled it out. Then, he went for the final part. He lifted the knife above the bully's heart, then brought it down multiple times in quick, jabbing motions. The bully was dead.

"Now, here comes the hard part!" said Other Jake. Jake was never really that good at sowing, but he pulled a needle and ball of yarn out of his pocket. Then he sewed. And sewed. And. Sewed. He made a suit out of the bully's skin. "Now, we will have what Nick always had..." Nick. That was his name. Jake remembered, but then Other Jake reminded him of the task on hand. He climbed into the suit, and grabbed a box of matches and the knife. He went downstairs to get ready...

He set up balloons, streamers, and signs that said "Happy Birthday, Other Jake!!" written in Nick's blood. When morning came, they would all die.

"September 26th, 2000...

This orphanage shared the same fate as the past 34, investigators say. The ominous stranger who started the fires is still unknown, but the boy known as Jake McSmith has said "His name is Pan." The CIA is currently looking through the criminal and civilian database in order to see if they will find anyone named Pan. If you are "Pan", turn yourself in now. You will be found.

Jake McSmith was not happy. He slipped, and he knew it. He would be found out eventually. But he had the skill. He had kept the knife. He would kill them all. One by one. Then he would have his birthday.

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