Before I start, this story is about finding myself. Literally. A crazy, psychotic, murderous version of me.
Chapter 1
Life may seem simple and repeat sometimes, like my days towards the end of school. The daily mix of classes, trap shooting, and chores seem to make the days blend together. And with the added anticipation simply makes everyday more boring than the last. But sometimes, just sometimes, life throws a curveball and kicks you in the dick. For example, whatever happened that night I was mistaken for a murderer. Well, I wouldn't blame them, he was me, after all. Well, next thing I know, I'm lying in the middle of a field. Looking around, I saw that it was the field next to a Hy-vee.
"Strange," I thought, "why in the fuck am I next to the Hy-vee?" I need to get home, so walking towards the store, I kicked something. Looking down realized that it was my backpack, and computer bag wasn't too far off. Why and how they got there is another mystery to solve.
"Well looks like I need a ride home," I said to myself. I walked down the sidewalk, only to see a police car stop. Then the doors shot out.
"GET ON THE GROUND!" yelled someone from the car. "Don't make us shoot." I heard a distinct sound I had heard many times before: the cocking of a shotgun.
"I swear I didn't do anything," I yelled as the cop walked up to me.
"Sure you didn't, It's Me killer." the officer said, handcuffing me.
Killer? Killer?! What could I possibly have done this time?
Chapter 2
Great. Now I'm stuck in an interrogation chamber for a crime I probably committed, and to add insult to injury, they handcuffed me to the table. After I made that observation I saw what was probably my interrogator.
"So, we finally caught you...again," he said, his voice soft but hostile. "I can't even fathom how we could catch you a second time."
"Ok, I still don't get why I'm here. The officer told me I was a killer. I swear I wouldn't have gone that far," I said. "All I remember is going to sleep then waking up in a field."
"Didn't kill anyone, huh?" he said, sliding an open file in front of me. I saw the page, then promptly threw up. The picture was my brother, but with stab wounds all over his body. And his forehead cut off. Cut. Off. Then he flipped the page to show my parents in the same state.
"Still convinced you didn't do anything?" The Interrogator said.
"I...I…", Jesus, I could barely find the words to say after seeing that all I thought was, "geez, haven't heard that bad of a stutter than Jimmy telling Wendy that Stan still loves her." But anyway, My family, dead.
"But we believe that you may or may not be him because while we had you driven here, Another person was attacked."
"Wait, a fourth person? Why?" I asked.
"Huh, guess you know nothing," he said, "Guess we got the wrong…"
Just then, the door opened and woman walked in, handed the interrogator a file, whispered something, and walked out the door. The interrogator looked at the sheet in disbelief.
"This… isn't possible," he said. He grabbed his phone , dialed someone, and left the room. While he was out, I heard him yell at the other person, something about a twin. He came back in with a look of confusion on his face, "You don't have a secret twin, do you?"
"Not that I know of," I said, "Why, may I ask?"
"Because," he muttered, "You two are genetic matches, down to last strand."
Ok first I'm confused for being a serial killer, then he proves I'm not him, then I AM him. Well this just hit the fan, quick.
"What?" I said in disbelief, "Does that mean…"
"Yes," the interrogator interrupted, "You are him."
Chapter 3
Well they let me out and was sent to my house, well what would be my house. They told me to sleep on the couch since the bedrooms are… messy, AKA a bloody wreck from wall to wall. My thoughts about going in them after that immediately disappeared.
I was unpacking when I saw something out of the corner of my eye, a piece of paper. I unfolded it, and it said,
"We both know who we are. Don't go around chasing in circles"
He knows who I am? This must've been for a cop or detective? Right? No, it wouldn't have since it was slid under the door. In the laundry room. That goes to the garage. He knows I'm here. He has me under the microscope now. Now I have to live with the threat of murder me coming for while I sleep
Well after that, I got done unpacking all my stuff and was surprised to see something in the office, a lonely piece of paper. What made this seem different was there was a note on it,
"If are really him, you know how to decipher this"
I then laid my eyes on the paper and saw what was confusing, the zodiac code. The same code my friends and I used to cheat on God knows how many tests. How was it that they couldn't use one of my friends? They knew it, we created it. We perfected it. I saw on the bottom of note was a phone number, so I decided to give it a call.
"Hello," a woman's voice answered "who is this?"
"Um... yes. This is Chris. You know, the person you arrested?" I said. "I was wondering why you didn't use my friends to decipher the sheet?"
"Look kid, there is a lot to know," the woman said, "I guess my partner and I should make a trip up to fill you in."
"Wait, you're putting me on the case?" I said, "Isn't this a serial killer we're dealing with here?"
"Yeah," she said, "But I guess we have to use him to catch him."
Woo! Arrested, interrogated, threatened, and now put on a serial killer case. What could possibly go wrong? At least I get my explanation.
Chapter 4
Well looks like I got the explanation I so desperately needed, but it wasn't necessarily what I wanted.
Apparently, I must've snapped one day and locked myself in my room for about a week. I then proceeded to kill my brother. Then, while looking for clues on who murdered my brother and "kidnapped" me, my parents meet the same fate. From me. Later on, I kidnapped my friends and some random engineer to, again, off them. What could have made me snap so bad?
"Well, I guess the big question is: How did you get here?" Detective Sherman said. I should mention he was the interrogator from earlier. He was a tall man with glasses and brown hair.
"I wouldn't know," I said, "Last thing I remember is me falling asleep."
"Well, do you at least have an idea about why he went on the killing spree he's on now?" Detective Taylor said. She was the woman who handed the file to detective Sherman earlier. She was (a lot) shorter than Sherman and blond hair in a ponytail.
"Honestly, I don't have a single clue on that either." I said.
"Look, I know this must be hard to think about all at once, but we need answers," Sherman said, "You have our number. Call us if you got an idea." With that, they packed up and left.
Chapter 5
Great. Now I'm in even more confusion over how I got here. But instead of scratching my head, I thought I'd look for clues on why I snapped. First place, my room. I hesitated there, hand over the doorknob, apprehensive of what was on the other side. Upon opening the door, I saw the walls written with the words "IT'S ME" over and over again in, what I think is, paint. Pieces of paper strewn around with drawings of people getting killed in various ways. People getting stabbed, beaten, and even people with their heads-or parts of it- cut off.
"Jesus," I said to myself, "what seriously happened to me?" After that B-rated horror show, I decided to look into the other rooms. I opened the door to my brother's room and immediately regretted it. It smelled of metal, decay, and blood.
"Oh sweet mother of God," I screamed, "What the FUCK happened to me?" It didn't help to have Lizzy's, my brother's (deceased) pet rabbit, mostly decayed corpse lying in the middle of the room.
But then, as if the floodgates have opened, everything fell into place. I looked over to my door to see something that caught my eye. I realized that my door had an outside facing knob. That wasn't supposed to be there. Looked down to see the floor. The floors! They had carpet. We replaced it with wood. I had a hunch and to see if it were there. Quickly I ran outside to find the smashed remains of that tacky wrestler bobblehead my parents gave me while they were in Mexico, in the driveway. Granted, it was covered in rocks from my driveway. I called the detectives.
"Officer, I think I have an idea what happened." I said.
Chapter 6
Sherman got to the house a little while later. He was holding a briefcase and some files in his arms.
"So, what's the verdict?" he said putting the files and such on the table.
"It's not exact but I got an idea," I said, "Look, I went through a rough patch sometime in my life, but what got me was the decorations and the floors in the house."
"And how does this make you certain that is was this 'rough patch'?" Sherman said.
"Because, before that we had a carpeted floor and other things," I said. "Like, sometime after that, my doorknob broke and the one side remained. I also did some digging around to find that we only had dog at the time. After some time my brother bought a dog from some people down the street. Also I found that we had a cat, a black one. A while later that same cat would get run over. I'm guessing that she is living fine now. I had all that before I had that rough patch."
"Wow," Sherman said, "Look, I like the idea, but it can't be proven."
"Well, how about you tell me the full story. The one you gave me seemed… abridged," I said.
"Fine," he sighed, "But first I need a drink, it's a very long story." He left and came back with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.
"When we got a call saying your brother was murdered," He said taking a drink, "We suspected someone your family had made enemies with was out to get you. When we got there, the room was covered in blood and guts. I can still remember the smell..." he gazed off for a second, he snapped back, "Anyway, we took pictures and got evidence, then left. We came back to find your parents dead in the same way your brother looked, and like his room, blood and guts everywhere. We found a note, we looked at it and I still remember those words, 'This is for the people who called me evil', We realized it was you, and started the manhunt."
"We were a few months into the investigation when we got word of the livestream that was killing off kids. In a live-action, real-time, Saw-like game. We watched, we saw all those kids die in some Saw-like game. We finally tracked down the warehouse and busted in, only to find more notes and tapes recorded by him. They said something along the lines of that the kids must 'pay for their sins' and that if God wanted them dead, he would have let them live. After some more investigating we found some engineer, John Foong. He was forced to design the games, and after all the kids died, he killed himself over the guilt." He finished off another drink and sighed, "I was put on this damn case since the beginning. I was excited when I heard we caught you, but after we realized it wasn't him, I put the suggestion that we send you back in hopes you would find the motive."
"I think I know why I would kill my friend," I said, "Because they had the cypher for the letters. He wanted to test you. See if you could put the kids murders and the code together. Maybe for you to ask teachers for a reason. The code that is on those letters is the one my friends and I use to sneak notes and answers to quizzes and test on under the teacher's noses."
"So you deciphered it?" Sherman said.
"Yeah," I said, "I think I know where he's at now."