red blood bed

I am a police officer. It is my first days on the job, the same goes for my partner. We’re driving in our patrol car. For some reason my partner stops the car and gets out–he is holding someone in the sights of his gun. I don’t know why, or what provoked him. He fires. The man dies fairly quickly. I’m not comfortable. I don’t know why he shot. Back at the station our supervisor makes him fill out a bunch of paperwork concerning the death.
A few days later I am in a similar situation. I am holding a man in my gun’s sights–he raises his arms and he is holding a gun. I fire. The man appears to die, and I have to go and fill out paperwork.
More days pass. I am in my room (though it does not represent any room I have every had). The man I shot comes in. My partner is sitting in a car in the corner, laughing, constantly laughing. I shoot the man, and he begins to bleed out of his chest. He is cheerful about the situation, and moves to my bed. He begins to taunt me and is proud that he is bleeding all over my bed. I start to reload my gun. It is taking too long for him to die. My partner hasn’t stopped laughing. I then notice that the bleeding man is trying to put a gun together. So I grab at it and wrestle it away from him. We end up on the floor before I successfully get the gun pieces out of his hand. He returns to bleed on my bed, and my partner never ceases to laugh. I put the gun together with the intention to shoot him in the head. But for some reason I put my two guns down in order to get something. He lunges for them and gets the guns. He is weak but manages to tackle me and pin me under him. He is bleeding all over me and attempting to muster enough strength to pull the trigger. I conjure myself awake before it he manages–my partner’s laugh still in my ear as I rouse into the waking world. ♨

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