Doses of Horror

Unlucky Shot

Gunshots echoed through the trees and Officer Darrel Bardot set his empty handgun down on the ledge in front of him. He removed the right side of the earmuffs, that were protecting his ears, and stepped back to look at his friend in the section next to him. He watched as his friend emptied the magazine of his handgun and make almost every shot perfectly.

"Good shooting man," Darrel said in approval.

His friend sat the gun down and turned around, "Thanks, been working on my aim almost everyday."

"It's definitely paying off," Darrel praised.

His friend let out a slight chuckle, "Yeah, ready to head out?"

"Yes sir," Darrel grabbed his gun and started to pack up his artillery.

Darrel made his way to his truck and placed his belongings on the floor of the passenger seat. As he sat down, he waved to his friend that had already started driving off. The tires crunching on the gravel as his exhaust roared. Darrel took a moment before starting his vehicle to look at an old picture of his ex wife that he kept on the dashboard and sighed.

His wife, Beth had left him only six months ago. Leaving him heartbroken and alone. She came to the realization that she couldn't be with somebody in the force. In her words, 'it is too hard to have to worry if the person I love the most will make it home alive or not, everyday.' He understood but still had a hard time accepting it. Beth had stuck with him for 7 years before deciding to leave him and his job was always the main topic of their arguments.

After one last deep breath, Darrel turned the key in the ignition and headed home. The drive was short, but his thoughts made it feel never ending. The radio was turned off and he could only hear the rumbling from his truck moving quickly along the road. Reaching home, he turned onto a small gravel driveway and made his way to a little cabin he called home.

Inside, he put all of his items away and sat down at the kitchen table. He stared outside of the kitchen window and watched the sun begin to set. Right as he got comfortable, the radio he kept on the kitchen counter went off, asking if Officer Bardot was available for an assignment even though it was his day off. But, he still accepted and started to get ready for work.

It was a calm night, not too many calls were coming through. Just little things like noise disturbances and false alarms. Until, one incident came through the radio and Darrel recognized the address right away. He quickly accepted the assignment and slammed his foot onto the gas and turned on his blaring alarms in the patrol car.

When Darrel arrived to the familiar one story home made of mainly brick, he noticed all the lights were off. He swiftly stepped out of his vehicle and cautiously walked to his ex wife's front door, looking left and right before stepping on the front doorstep. He rested his right hand over the gun being coddled by his holster, and used his left hand to knock on the door.

"Beth? Are you home?" Darrel asked, keeping his composure.

But, to no surprise, there wasn't an answer. The call over the radio was a reported break in, Beth had called 911 saying that someone had got inside the house through her back door. But, when he arrived there was so sounds of distress or any sign of anyone being inside at all. It scared him even more.

He decided that he was going to knock once more before forcing his way inside. He knocked once and before he knocked the second time, the door creaked open. The eerie silence that followed made Darrel draw his gun and flashlight and take a step inside.

"Beth? Are you here?" Darrel asked out loud while scanning the dark house with his flashlight.

It was pitch black inside of the house. As he moved his flashlight to his right, he saw her beige couch against the wall covered in blood. His thoughts began to race. Darrel then looked to his left and saw the archway to the kitchen and made his way there. In the kitchen, there was dishes and pans everywhere. Broken glass crunched under his feet as he walked around, examining the kitchen.

Darrel decided to turn around and head down the hallway that was next to the living room. As he was headed toward the bedroom, he saw a picture that had fallen off of the wall and landed on the floor. He knelt down to get a closer look. He shined his flashlight onto the framed photo and saw Beth and another man with their faces covered in a bloody X. As he was looking, he heard floorboards creak from inside the bedroom. He quickly stood back up and shined the flashlight down the hall again.

"Police! Who's there?!" Darrel yelled out to the footsteps.

There was no reply and he moved forward. Slowly and carefully stepping towards the bedroom. He reached the door and slowly opened it. Darrel shined his flashlight inside from the door frame and scanned the room. When he reached the bed, he saw Beth and the man lying there, decapitated. He covered his mouth to keep in his dinner.

"Hello, Officer," A familiar voice spoke from the other corner of the bedroom.

Darrel shined his flashlight toward the direction of the voice and saw... himself. He felt his heart skip a beat and his chest tighten making it difficult to breathe. His mind raced, 'How is this possible? Is this real? Am I dreaming?' But, nothing seemed to make sense.

Darrel pointed his gun at his doppelgänger, "Who... What are you?"

His copy laughed, "You know who I am. I'm you."

"No, you're not," Darrel shook his head.

"But, I am. Look what we did," The copy pointed to the scene on the bed.

Darrel scoffed, "I didn't do that, you did."

"No, WE did," His copy corrected him.

"I didn't do this, I just got here?" Darrel began to question himself.

His copy spoke once more, "We did, and now we have to live with it."

"No," Darrel put his finger on the trigger.

"Do it," His copy encouraged. "Take us out of our misery."

With slight hesitation, Darrel shot his copy in the center of his head.

- - -

POV
Darrel's Friend
Mike

"I hadn't heard from Darrel in almost a week. Last I saw him was when we went shooting 5 days ago. So, I decided to go and check on him. I hopped into my truck and made the 15 minute drive to his secluded cabin. When I got there, I noticed his mail had piled up and no fresh tire tracks," Mike paused to recollect himself.

"Please, continue," The detective sitting at the other end of the table encouraged Mike.

Mike adjusted in the uncomfortable metal chair, "Right after his divorce with Beth, he gave me a key to his home and said I was welcome anytime. I never used it until that day when I knocked and there was no answer. I made my way inside and the house was clean, for the most part. But, still no sign of him."

"Where'd you find his body?" The detective was getting antsy.

Mike was getting agitated by how pushy the detective was becoming, "I'm getting to that." Mike leaned back in the chair, "I went into his bedroom, he wasn't there. So, I checked the bathroom and that's when I saw it. He was in the bathtub and his brains were scattering everywhere. I never saw Darrel as the kind of man to kill himself, or to murder his wife. But, next to him in the tub was the confession letter he wrote."

The detective pulled out a letter in a plastic bag from a manila folder, "This one? Correct?"

Mike looked at the familiar handwriting, "Yeah, that's the one."

The detective signed in disapproval, "Well, what you're friend did was terrible and it's upsetting that his ex wife and her boyfriend will never get the justice they deserve." The detective stood up from her seat and spoke once more, "You're good to go now."

Mike stood up and made his way out of the interrogation room with the detective and made his way to the exit.