A short story by, Catherine O’Brien 

Douglas touched the gun’s handle through his jacket pocket. It gave him a great feeling, a surge of power, the feeling that made him Bad Doug, more powerful than anyone else ….anyone else.
Although he knew that he could kill anyone with it, he had but one target: Brigit McDonald. Years of needless jeering had driven him over the edge …to the point of murder.

The cold night air pressed against his face. He rang her doorbell. Doug was trembling, but not from the cold. His head span with questions; was this right? Was what Brigit did so bad that she must die? Couldn’t they just talk? When such questions arose he pushed them to the back of his mind. They always came back.

Brigit opened the door. Without thinking, Doug struck her head. She fell, shocked. Laying a foot on her stomach, he drew the gun. Terrified, she screamed. She shielded her face. Doug could hear whimpering. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Good Doug returned and Bad Doug faded away. Backing away, the weapon clattered to the floor. He ran. Both he and Brigit received a second chance at a better life…..neither as a victim.