One in the Same!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
New to the precinct, the investigator has his hands full with murders. Can he stop the murders or is he the cause of them?

Submitted: November 15, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 15, 2011



One in the Same

I slowly get up and start looking around trying to figure out what had happened.All I can see is this ancient, rusty dumpster with a repulsive smell of deteriorating animal carcasses.I finally realize I’m still in the alleyway.The walls tower over me; making me look like an infant in a crib.“DAMN IT.”I yell.“He got away.”Wait a second though; this pain is horrible.It feels like a fire poker was doused in gasoline and lit on fire while it was in my side.Why am I bleeding?He was the one that got shot.WHOA!It hit me like a ton of bricks.Here I am standing alone in this dark, foul alleyway; realizing what has been happening this whole time.I should have noticed something. Every clue was an arrow pointing me where to go, but somehow they were leading me back to the same place.The clues just kept coming one after another as if someone meant to keep the faucet dripping.Along with the bricks, the realization of what I have been doing dawned on me.The images of all the victims start flashing through my mind like a slideshow.I just can’t bare all of the pain and suffering that I caused.My stomach is about to erupt and the easiest exit is upwards.I can’t hold my eyes open any longer; the weights from the pain are unbearable.My grasp on life is slowly slipping away as I rewind to the beginning of the previous day.

The day is February 10th, 2010.It’s my fifth day on the squad.I walk into the precinct with my freshly ironed, navy blue suit on.My badge stands out like the North Star on a cloudless night.The Precinct is packed tight today.I squeeze my way through the labyrinth of officers and criminals to get to my office.I have tons and tons of paperwork to do; mainly from the four murders that occurred four consecutive days in a row.This game is already getting old.Everyday has been the same this week.Same city, same crime, same precinct; the only thing different is the player that don’t get that one extra life.I’m half the way finished with this horde of paperwork when another “newbie” rushes into my office and tells me there has been another murder.I jump up and grab my coat and head off to another grim scene.

I arrive at the crime scene, and I notice this neighborhood is very poor.Most of the homes are decaying; leaving them looking like a rundown wooden outhouse from the twenties.The roads and pavement looks as if Hell started to breach the surface of earth and suddenly stopped.If the sight hadn’t already made me feel uneasy, the smell soon would.Each civilian that passed reeked of month old scum.The small children were even worse.Their odor was putrid.Flies flew around, not only the mountains of garbage piled in the streets; but each and every person that dwells in the area.None of the residents had seen clean water in months. This neighborhood was so rundown that the residents were bathing in a creek nearby.I could tell this victim wasn’t going to be pretty.

I walk into the house that is bombarded by policemen.The house is just like all the others.As I near the victim’s room a new but familiar stench crashes up into my nose.Then the sight to match the smell follows right after.Another beautiful blonde, her long luscious blonde hair now is all matted down; her once velvety smooth skin is now encrusted with dry blood.As for the intelligence that was in her brain; it is all over the wall now.Just like the other four victims; all beautiful, intelligent women that I knew.“So what’s the murder weapon?” I ask another investigator.“It was a .45 caliber pistol.”He replied.That happens to be the same weapon used in the four previous murders.The only other evidence that is ever left is a note with the words “You Ended It.”I go ahead and collect the evidence and call it a day.

I head home to relax and take it easy.My home is my oasis.The living room consists of one large, blue B Lounge couch.When I say huge I mean huge.The cushions are so wide that your feet dangle, begging to touch the ground.I cannot just sit down on it; I have to plop down in it.The couch looks so inviting that a momma’s boy would pick this couch over his own mother.This couch is what I actually sleep on.I am usually out within minutes.So I go ahead and kick off my black, sleek, newly polished shoes.There is one last thing that I have to do before I go to sleep.I have got to take the medication that the precincts therapist prescribed to me.It is supposed to help me with stress and depression, but I don’t know if it is working or not.All I know is that I keep waking up early and feeling restless, but I know I get my full eight hours of sleep especially on my comfy couch.I doze off waiting for the morning to come.

Finally the cool, crisp air from the morning breeze brushes gently across my skin.Once again I wake up needing more rest and feeling like I have been vigorously exercising all night.I read the side effects on my meds one more time.They say nothing about being restless; all they say is stuff about dizziness, vomiting, split personality, and don’t drink alcohol while taking them.I guess it is just how I sleep.Someone has told me that sleeping with me is about as tough as wrestling a seven foot, one-eyed, over-protective, blood hungry alligator.Actually, it was one of the victims that were killed earlier in the week that had told me that.

The day is February 11th, 2010.I hurry and slip on my blue suit once again.Hoping today will be better than the previous ones.I slide my holster on and gently put my .45 caliber in it.This .45 is something special.The cold hard steel of the barrel and handle sends chills down my spine.It’s like holding death in the palm of your hands.I thought this very gun was unique until I found out there was a murderer stampeding around with a gun very similar to it.Oh well, I have to get to work instead of thinking about my gun.

I arrive at the precinct once again.Every day is the same, paperwork, criminals, and more paperwork.It’s the worst song of my life and it is stuck on repeat.This day has been very boring so I head home early.Whew.The first day I haven’t had a murder.That is a big stress reliever.I lay down earlier than usual, but I still have to take the stupid meds like always.I can’t go to sleep, but I catch myself daydreaming about roaming down a dark, lonesome alleyway following a beautiful woman.All of a sudden, my phone starts ringing.It’s a 911 call that specifically asked for me.The location is at 1408 Finale St.

I speed off in a hurry, but I keep seeing quick images flash in my head of a girl running and screaming.I can’t quite make out what it is going on though.Slowly, I pull up to the address.This place looks very familiar.Almost as if I could say it was déjà vu; just another one of the broken record players that silently turns in my head.I hear screams that make my skin crawl.I run down the alleyway.At the end is standing a man that looks…just like me.He is holding the beautiful woman that I saw in my daydream.He is holding a .45 pistol at her head.I pull out my own gun and I point death right at this man that looks like me.I ask him to drop his weapon, but at the exactly same time he asks me to do the same thing.Every command I shout he ignores.Finally, I see an open shot at his abdomen.I count down in my head “3, 2, 1.”I pull the trigger, the black gun powder explodes, my ears are ringing, and my eyesight starts to fail.I feel like a blind, paralyzed Vietnam War veteran.I collapse on the ground.I slowly get up and realize I am in the same alleyway.The same towering walls and dumpster are still here. The pain hits me hard again.

The pills had been working but the side effects were also kicking in while I was off in another peaceful sanctum.Even though I thought I was at home sleeping on my enormous, marshmallow like couch; I was actually out committing horrendous acts.The murderer and I were one in the same.The voluptuous, slender, robust blondes were all woman that ripped my heart out like a dog rips stuffing out of one of its cheap, meaningless chew toys.In the end it was me who caused the most suffering, and in return I was the one who stopped it.

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