The Police Officer 

“Help! Help! HELP!” screams a little boy as he desperately tries to escape the firm grasp around his neck. The masked man stares at the little boy’s fearful eyes as the little boy suffocates. Suddenly, a grandfather clock in the distance chimes. The man quickly releases the boy and smashes a window using his hammer. The little boy lays on the floor panting as the man escapes through the window and under the cover of the night.  

I watch Joe Brooke from my cubicle as he walks into the police station wearing his uniform. He walks to his cubicle before momentarily freezing and then sitting down. The dark, puffy skin under his eyes and his tall, lean body emitted a walking dead vibe. “Late as always” everyone would say. I always wondered what went on with Joe that would cause him to frequently be late to his shift. However, I chose not to snoop around because I have more important matters on my hands.  

“Joe, we got a new case on our hand,” says Stuart. “A boy is reported to have been choked by a masked man at around 2:30 and the only evidence they have is the hammer that the man used to escape through the window.”   

“Were there any fingerprints?” asks Joe.  

“No. The man must have been a sneaky one because there are not any fingerprints on anything. I have a feeling this is going to be a long and tough case.”  

I also believe the case is going to be a long one because the man seemed so mysterious, and it is as if he knows every move the police officers are going to make. As if he is a police officer himself.  

“Joe and Michael! Get your belongings together because you guys are going to investigate the attempted murder site” yells Chief Wales.  

“Yes sir!”  

“Okay.”  

Once Joe and I arrive at the house, we start our investigation by laying out the yellow “caution do not enter” tape around the yard. Then, we trudge our way to second floor where the boy’s bedroom and the attempted murder site were. Joe and I breeze down the hallway and into the room. Upon passing through the doorway, Joe abruptly stops and stands frozen like a statue.  

“What’s wrong?” I ask Joe.  

“This place, it feels oddly familiar. But I cannot recall ever being here,” replies Joe.  

“Maybe you’ve been here before as a kid. I mean that is highly likely considering that you have lived in this area your whole life.”  

“Hmm, you’re  probably right. Let’s continue the investigation.”  

After searching for what seemed like an eternity, Joe and I decide to call it a day and head home. However, upon walking to my car, I see a footprint imprinted in the mud just below the window the suspect had escaped from.  

“Hey, Joe. I found something!” I yell.  

“On my way Michael!”  

“Based on the footprint size, I’m guessing the suspect’s shoe size is around 15 ½."  

“Wait a minute, that’s my shoe size” replies Joe.  

“Joe, many people have 15 ½ has their shoe size and I am only approximating. No need to worry” I reassure him. “We made some substantial progress in our investigation today so let’s go home and get a good rest, especially you.”  

“Okay.”  

In the middle of the night at around 2:30, a sudden scream echoes throughout the neighborhood. I swiftly put on my uniform and turn on the radio. The radio was clogged with yelling between police officers trying to communicate with each other. I quickly get my equipment together and head to my car.  

“Everyone go to 15 Blueberry Lane. Joe is in trouble” yells Chief Wales through the radio.  

Once I arrive at Joe’s house, I kick the door open and sprint up the stairs to his bedroom. I see Joe sprawled out on the floor panting with red hand marks on his throat. Glancing around, I see fog in the air, but no signs of irregularities within the room.  

“Joe, are you there? Can you hear me?” I say as I hover over his tomato-red face.  

“Masked. Man.” Joe says through quick bursts of breath.  

“Which direction did he run?” I ask.  

“He ran out the back door.”  

“What did he look like?”  

“I don’t know. I don’t-”  

Suddenly, Joe loses consciousness. The ambulance arrives in the nick of time. The medical team sprints up the stairs two steps at a time carrying a stretcher. Joe is loaded on the stretcher. My heart starts to pulse. A grandfather clock chimes three times in the distance.My vision blurs. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Darkness.  

When I wake up, I see wires attached to me from all sides. I lie in the hospital bed trying to recall what happened. Meanwhile, a doctor knocks on the door and walks into the room.  

“Sir, you were found lying on the floor unconscious after Joe was brought to the ambulance.” says Doctor Green. “Do you remember what happened last night?”  

“Not really, everything seems like a blur” I reply.  

“Based on the blood tests, we believe that you may have been exposed to a drug while standing in the room.”  

“What? How? Is Joe doing well?”  

“Other from a broken neck and a concussion, he is doing just as good as you are.”  

Five days later  

“Welcome back Joe!” We cheer in unison as Joe enters the station. Joe, after having been in a hospital bed for the past five days, lost the baggy skin under his eyes and looked normal for the first time. However, he had a neck brace around his neck, and he looked like he lost a couple of pounds while at the hospital. Despite this, we were all glad that Joe was doing fine, especially after being a victim to the masked man.  

“We have some good news and bad news for you Joe,” says Chief Wales. “Which one do you want to hear first?”  

“Bad news first as always” replies Joe.  

“The bad news is that Michael’s memory is a blur so we can’t get any additional evidence, yet.”  

“And the good?”  

“The good news is that the masked man stopped his rampage while you were gone. You must have put up a good fight.” 

“But I didn’t-” 

“It’s okay Joe, the masked man is strong, so we understand. Right guys?” 

“Yeah!” we all reply. 

As the day went on, I continue to observe Joe from my cubicle. During certain times, however, Joe will suddenly stop and stare at whatever was in front of him. His eyebrows will straighten out and his face turns serious. His eyes gleam with terror. Deep inside a feeling tells me that he is hiding something that he did not want anyone else to know. Something about the attack. Despite this, I decide to not bother him, especially after he survived a near-death experience.  

At the end of the day, the fog that was blocking and hiding my memories of the event start to clear out. I begin to remember finding Joe on the floor and seeing a mysterious fog covering the room. Then, I remember Joe telling me that the masked man did not run, and my vision getting blurry before losing consciousness. I remember the grandfather clock chiming in the distance before Joe passed out. The night of the attack seems odd compared to the previous attack. Where was the masked man if he did not run? Why did Joe suddenly lose consciousness? What did the grandfather clock have to do with the attack? I submerge myself in my thoughts for about an hour until Joe walks up to my desk and calls my name.  

“Michael. Michael!” Joe yells. 

“Oh, sorry. What do you want?” I respond. 

“I need to tell you something that will sound crazy, but it's been bothering me the entire day and you may be the only person to believe me so meet me at my house after work.” 

“Okay, I also have a few thoughts that I need to sort out with you.”  

At the end of our shift, I hitch a ride with Joe to his house. There, we went to his living room to discuss the night of the attack. 

“Okay, Michael. I hope you are ready for this, but on the night of the attack, I didn’t see the masked man. I only felt his presence in front of me, but when the grandfather clock chimed, his presence disappeared. Additionally, the masked man must have some psychic powers because he used my hands to choke me.” 

“I see.” 

The thoughts that had been bothering me the entire day start to piece together. The three chimes by the grandfather clock must mean that the masked man disappeared at 3:00 am which is suspiciously close to the time that the masked man fled the scene after deliberately choking a little boy. This means that the masked man knew his time was up at 3:00 so every night at 3:00, the masked man must be at a specific location before he disappears. Yet, I do not understand why Joe did not see him on the night of the attack. Moreover, the likelihood of the masked man being a ghost or having supernatural abilities is impossible.

“Hey Joe, I need to go back home right now because I forgot to feed my dog. Bye!” I say as I rush out the door. 

“But we didn’t even figure-” 

I close the door and run to my car. The possibility of my theory being correct scares me. I need to notify the other police officers as fast as possible, but everyone already left the station an hour ago which means I need to wait until tomorrow. However, if my theory is correct, then it is highly likely that I will be the next victim. I start driving home, but then swirl around and head towards the police station. Once inside, I take pillows from the couch to make a small, comfortable bed next to my desk. I then put on a bulletproof vest and load a Glock before lying on my makeshift bed.  

Two hours go by before my sleepiness starts to kick in. Slowly, my eyelids start feeling heavy and the muscles holding them up give out until I am submerged in complete darkness. The police station fills with my snoring and the honking of cars in the streets. Some time passes before footsteps outside the station wake me up from my slumber. I frantically hold my gun out and look outside a window. A light suddenly blinks at the opposite side of the station. Soon, all the lights in the station flicker until they go out. I silently move towards the light switch and flick the switch on. The lights stay still. In the distance, I see a shadowy figure move pass a window and towards the back door. I walk with my gun held in front of me as I slowly inch towards the back door. My ears pulse with the sound of my pounding heart. Blood rushes to my arms as I grip the handle of the gun. I kneel in front of the back door as I wait for the masked man to walk through. Sweat crawls down my face and into my eyes. Suddenly, my vision goes blurry. At that moment, a gunshot rings from behind me as a window shatters. I get hit and fall to the ground. Pain envelops my entire back. I lie there on the floor unable to move. A warm liquid drizzles down my back and gets soaked into my clothes. The sound of footsteps gets louder. The masked man in his white clown-faced mask turns my body over. I stare at his tall, lean body in terror. I gather my remaining strength to grab my gun. As the masked man hovers over my face, I ram the butt of my gun into his head. The masked man stumbles backward in pain as blood gushes out of his head. Then, he aims his gun at me and shoots. The bullet misses my head and hits my chest leaving me groaning in pain. I pick up my gun and aim it at the masked man’s right arm. Keeping my arms as steady as possible, I pull the trigger. Blood splatters on the floor as the masked man falls to the floor. I lie on the floor exhausted, taking quick short breaths. Soon, I lose consciousness.  

I wake up in the same bed and mood as I was after the night Joe was attacked. I look at the clock: 5:00 pm. Desperately, I pull the wires out of my arm and trudge toward the front desk.  

“What in the world are you doing?” says Doctor Green. 

“I need to look for Joe Brooke” I reply. “It’s urgent.” 

“Do you realize what you have got yourself into?” Doctor Green says with a stern face. 

“Yes, I do, which is why I need to see Joe Brooke. Right. Now.” 

“You were just in the hospital 6 days ago. Do you know what condition your body is in? You need to rest.” 

“Sorry Doctor, but I need to go I will take care of my body after I finish my errand.”  

I sluggishly drag my legs to the front desk where the nurse is talking to Chief Wales. Hiding behind a corner, I overhear Chief Wales talking to the nurse about Joe.  

“Hey, Chief Wales!” I yell. 

“What are you doing here Michael? You should be resting in bed!” says Chief Wales. 

“I have something important and unbelievable to tell you. Can we go somewhere private?” 

“Okay fine. You know a private place?” 

“Yeah, my hospital room.” 

Upon arriving in my hospital room, I lock the door behind me and close the curtains. Then I sit across from Chief Wales and write a message on notebook paper. I hold up the message for Chief Wales to read: “Don’t make a sound, turn off your radio first. Check for security cameras around the room.” After reading the message, Chief Wales turns off his radio and covers the security camera at the corner of the room. Then, I tell the Chief details about everything that has happened so far. At the end of my explanation, the Chief looks at me with a confused expression. 

“You need to trust me Chief. Why do you think Joe and I ended up in the hospital last night?” I explain. 

“But realistically, how could your theory be possible?” Chief Wales asks. 

“I have heard of people having multiple personalities which may be the case with Joe, but his case is extremely rare because the other side of him disappears at a set time every day. Additionally, it seems to me that his other side is conscious when Joe is awake which will explain why he attacked me after Joe told me what happened the night he was attacked.” 

“I see, but I’m still a little confused. Anyhow, how would we get rid of the masked man if he is inside of Joe?”  

"Well, having multiple personalities is highly likely a disorder so there should be a cause and a treatment for people with this disorder” I respond. “So, we need to do some research.” 

As we walk to the Chief’s car, I ask, “Hey, how is Joe doing? Does he have a bullet wound on his right arm?” 

“Joe is doing fine and how do you know he has a bullet wound on his right arm?” Chief Wales replies. 

“As I said before, the masked man and Joe are the same person, and I shot the masked man in his right arm last night.” 

Chief Wales and I arrive at the public library to start our research. After surfing the internet for an hour, we gather our research data and discuss viable solutions.  

“So, if this dissociative identity disorder is caused by a traumatic experience in the past, then we need to find out what traumatized Joe,” I say. 

“Yeah, and from there we can take him to a therapist with the information to remove the masked man side of Joe” adds Chief Wales. 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” 

 When we arrive at the hospital, Chief Wales and I make our way to Joe’s hospital room. There, I see Joe lying in bed with his head and part of his right arm wrapped with white bandages. 

“Hey Joe. How are you feeling?” I ask. 

“Not good. I don’t even remember what happened last night. How did I get hurt?” Joe replies. 

“Oh, you were drunk and got in a fight with another drunk man behind the police station and you were stabbed in the arm.” 

“What, how did I end up behind the police station?” asks Joe. 

“That’s what Chief and I are wondering.” 

“Why were you drinking last night? Did you have any upsetting memories in the past?” asks Chief Wales. 

Joe tilts his head down and stares at his legs. Then, I see droplets of water and salt forming in Joe’s eyes, streaming down his face. The tears reflect a shiny silver as the bright moon stands unshaken by the events taking place. I pat Joe on the back and hand him a tissue.  

“Take your time Joe. You don’t have to tell us now if you don’t want to” I say. 

“It’s okay. I know you guys are only trying to help me” Joe answers. 

Gathering his emotions, Joe wipes away the tears and starts to speak. 

“One night, at around 11:00 pm, a police officer broke into my house and shot my mom and dad. However, the police officer felt pity for me as a kid and took me in. At the time, I didn’t know that my mom and dad were hitmen, so I naturally wanted revenge. I trained hard every day to increase my strength until one day I was strong enough to take out the police officer. So that night, I snuck up to the police officer and choked him to death. In the distance, a grandfather clock chimed three times. After his death, I felt freedom and pleasure as I was finally able to avenge my parents.” 

“Uh Joe, are you okay?” I ask. 

“I’m fine as I will ever be. Now that the Chief and you are in the same room as me.”  

I quickly glance at the clock: 11:00 pm.  

“You guys have been learning too much about me recently that I’m afraid I will have to dispose of you two” adds the masked man. 

“Michael! Get back-up!” Chief Wales yells. “I will try to contain him for as long as possible.” 

“But Chief-” 

“Go!”  

I frantically run out of the room and down two flights of stairs. I sprint towards the front desk while I shout in the radio: “We need back-up! The masked man is in the public hospital!”  

“Hey, this is Michael Reynolds” I say as I pull out my police badge to show the nurse. “I need you to notify all doctors and nurses to lock the doors to every hospital room.” 

“What?! What is going on?” the nurse asks. 

“I don’t have time right now to explain” I answer. “The Chief is in trouble.” 

I sprint back up the two flights of stairs and into Joe’s room with my taser in hand. When I walk into the room, I see a window shattered and Chief Wales lying on the floor with a shard of glass in his stomach. Chief Wales groans in pain as he tries to pull the shard out with his bloody hands. The masked man grips another shard of glass and drives it through Chief Wales’s throat. Blood splatters on the masked man’s face as Chief Wales gurgles before lying still on the floor, dead. Anger and rage build up inside my chest. I toss the taser aside and grab a pocket knife from my belt. I open my mouth to make a battle cry before I rush toward the masked man. The masked man tries grabbing another glass shard, but before he can, I drive my knife through his stomach. The masked man stumbles backward in pain, but he manages to cut my face. Hot blood trickles down my face as adrenaline rushes through my body. My arms puff up as I get ready to beat the crap out of him. One direct punch to the face. An uppercut to the masked man’s chin. A side punch to the face. The masked man falls to the floor. I continue to punch the masked man until I run out of breath. I move my finger towards Joe’s nose. No breath. I lie on the floor exhausted. Outside, I hear the frantic footsteps of the police officers running toward the blood-covered room. Suddenly, a feeling of regret and grief overwhelms me, and I begin to understand. Revenge was not the solution. I should have known. I should have learned from Joe’s mistakes. Yet, I didn’t. I cry in the dark of the night as a sinful presence arouses within me.