“So, do I pull the trigger or what, pal?”

Those were the last words he’d hear, he was certain of it.

Breakfast was a blast, watching Trooper Dawson squirm. To hear him having a tragic accident just moments later sucked, but the Master Plan obviously felt otherwise. Perhaps this was Chris’ destiny, to suffer for his crime.

The 911 call to Donny’s was important, almost as much for most of the same reasons, ironically. Donny was the only one that knew the truth, as he found out when Donny called him just last night.

“So you knew about Chris shooting your brother,” he started, before going into detail after detail of things he should not have known.

Eric was nervous, but he wasn’t going to let anyone find out. He would get Donny just like he got Chris, but fate changed that, too. Now he’s in front of Donny’s house to answer some kind of domestic violence call.

Fate was lending a helping hand.

“Donny!” he screamed after kicking the door in. Trooper Roberts knew that kicking the door in and screaming for dramatic effect would make for a great report after he killed Donny and ended his personal nightmare. A witness to this would think he was going in the house to help, not kill.

He cleared each room, making sure Donny wasn’t hiding with a gun behind some closet door, ready to blow his brains out. When he got to the stairs, he saw something very disturbing. Blood. Lots of it, all over the walls, and a horrid stain on the floor as if someone dragged a lifeless body up the steps.

The thoughts of what Donny could have done, the monster behind this terror, made Eric’s spine tingle. Instinct told him to call for backup, but if he did, he would lose his one chance of resolution.

“You watched him kill your brother.”

He followed the trail of blood up the stairs, passing a door that didn’t seem revelant. He walked in the master bedroom and was aghast at the scene he was now a part of.

The mattress was partially off the bed, on a weird angle. Blood was everywhere. Torn clothing, broken furniture, and broken glass could be found anywhere in the room.

“Donny,” asked Eric, “what did you do?”

The window was shattered, and Eric noticed the trail of blood lead to it. Concerned, he approached with his gun drawn. As he got closer, he heard moaning. Instincts lead him to stick his head out the window to see what was wrong, and that’s when he realized that it was all over.

And if there was any doubt in his mind, it was cleared with the gun jabbed in his kidneys.

“Hello, Eric,” Donny mumbled. “Don’t turn around, you might get shot.”

“What do you want?”

“You came here to kill me. I knew you would, too.”

Donny pulled the trooper’s backup gun out of his ankle holster and threw it out the window. “Your service revolver, please.”

He pulled the trooper in after his other gun was dropped outside. “You came here to kill me,” he said with a bit of anger. “You will fail miserably.”

The cop asked the questions, that’s how it’s supposed to go, so that’s what Eric did. “Where is your wife?”

Donny aimed his gun at Eric’s head. “Another question from you and the only answer you’ll get is your brains on the walls.”

Eric nodded, scared to die. This was not a comfortable position for him to be in, and he hated it.

“You saw Dawson kill your brother. You set him up, didn’t you? Doesn’t matter, or does it?”

Donny paced the room.

“He was a father, did you know that? His family may have hated him but his kid will never get to see his father again, you stole that. Do you understand what you did?”

Roberts nodded, with a gun still pointed at his head.

“What was it like,” Donny asked, “to see your brother die? Did you enjoy it? Or did you want to stop his killing?”

Donny stuck the gun in the cop’s mouth as he opened it to reply. “Now now, let’s not say something you’ll regret.”

“Look at you, the cowboy. Coming in my home and charging in like some kind of hero, with no backup. Do they even know you’re here? God, you’re stupid.”

“I should just end your pathetic life right now.”

Trooper Roberts’ eyes watered up as he realized what was going to happen.

“So, do I pull the trigger or what, pal?”

Those were the last words he’d hear, he was certain of it.

Eric said no. Donny smiled.

“Wrong answer.”

Eric was on the phone with Janet, letting her know that he was finally letting her be free. Moments earlier, he hired an ex-con to pull a hit on his brother Mark; the worthless piece of shit was a disgrace to the family, and he didn’t deserve to be alive anymore.

He was outside the bar when he was surprised to see Chris Dawson doing rounds. Apparently he was pulling overtime and just happened to be there when Mark somehow overcame this monster thug’s beating. When he saw Dawson draw his weapon and kill Mark, Eric was both shocked and pleased.

But what he heard made him want more. “Your brother’s a piece of shit,” Dawson said to Mark as he was pulling the trigger. “He’s a dirty cop and you’re a dirty cop’s dead brother.”

Somehow, Donny found out all about this. He had the phone records from that night, bank statements, and details as to what was supposed to happen. Now Donny was standing in front of him, smile in tow, and a gun in his hand.

“Goodbye, Eric.”

Donny cried for hours. He asked Eric what it was like to watch his brother die.

Donny answered his own question.