There once was a chance I didn't take...

By not taking that chance, I found myself thrown into a horrific nightmare I couldn't escape.

What was this missed chance, you wonder?

I had the barrel of my 9mm Glock levelled at the head of one of the most nefarious criminals in history and I didn't pull the trigger. It was an opportunity I shouldn't have taken for granted, for it lead to a tragic, life-changing event for me; my personal Hell.

As a detective, I have seen the gruesome scenes that not even Hollywood would be able to recreate. However, the most gruesome scene I had witnessed was within my own, country home. That scene was the last thing I would ever see.

Or so I thought.

*~* Flashback *~*

Walking through the door of my home, I looked forward to seeing the smiling faces of my wife and two teenage sons after a draining day at work. Turning the handle and opening the door, I stepped over the threshold before pulling the metal door closed behind me. I sent a sharp whistle through the air to alert my family that I was home, a tradition I had engaged in since the boys were toddlers. I heard footsteps to my left as I began taking off my shoes, "Hey, how---" My sentence was cut short when I felt something slam into the back of my head, the reverberating thump sending pain shooting through my skull.

The next thing I knew, I was in the living room bound to a metal patio chair with my own handcuffs. Disoriented, I glanced around the room, feeling the headache intensify with each movement. Laughter broke the silent atmosphere.

"It's about time you woke up, detective." A tall man stepped out of the kitchen, a glass of soda in his hand. "Did you have a nice nap?"

My eyes widened in recognition, "Phantom..."

The man took a drink of the soda, "You have a lovely family, detective. A gorgeous lady and two intelligent young lads. Brave ones, at that. How fortunate you have been." Phantom stood in front of me, a sinister smirk on his face. "More fortunate than me, that is certain."

I growled, "What do you want? Where is my family?" I strained against the handcuffs, but only succeeded in bloodying my wrists as the metal broke my skin.

The criminal's laughter filled the air, "I'm glad you asked! Now, we can start this little game I've been saving just for you, detective." Phantom walked into one of the bedrooms and returned with my youngest son, Damien. The teen's black hair was more unruly than ever, dried blood coated his bottom lip, and a bruise had already formed across the right side of his face. His hands were bound behind him. "You ruined my life, detective. When you imprisoned me, I had a family to return to. I don't have the luxury you have any more. All those people I killed wasn't random attacks, they were on a dead pool. A hit list, if you prefer. The money I earned from their assassinations was spent toward my family, helping my wife fight her battle with cancer."

Phantom pulled a large knife from his back pocket, resting the razor sharp blade on my son's jaw. Damien attempted to pull away from the threat, but a trickle of blood soon moved down his skin, making the teen wince at the pain. His eyes were wide with terror as he looked at me, silently begging me to do something. Anything.

"This is between you and me, Phantom." I growled, my anger rising along with fear. "Let him go."

The man laughed, "I'm simply returning the grief you caused me, detective. After today, you'll have nobody to come home to. Just like me." He lowered the knife to Damien's throat, making the young teen close his eyes tightly, his entire body trembling in terror. "Now, tell me, detective. Do you want this child's death to be quick or agonizing?"

Panic coursed through me and I could hear the fear in my voice, "Let him go!"

Phantom smiled sinisterly and leaned down slightly, whispering in Damien's ear. "It seems your father doesn't understand my game. Let's see what happens when I give him some motivation for the next two." Phantom moved quickly and the knife was buried in my son's chest half a second later. A scream tore from my lungs, making my throat hurt from the abuse, but I didn't care. In that moment, it felt like my own soul had been ripped from my body as I saw Damien's limp body fall facedown onto the floor, blood pooling around him. He remained motionless and I already knew he was dead; the blade had pierced his heart directly.

Tears of agonizing emotional pain streamed down my face as I struggled even more. My stomach churned, nausea hitting me instantly, making a choking cry erupt from my lungs. My entire body shook from shock, grief, and anger, my brain barely processing that this was happening.

Phantom shook his head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such a shame you didn't understand my game the first round, detective. You'll play along from now on, won't you?" He held the knife up and ran a finger across the side of the blade, rubbing his victim's blood between his thumb and forefinger, slowly walking around my son's corpse to stand in front of me. He held the knife against my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "I've waited so long to see you suffer like this."

Suffer, I did.

My oldest son, Aiden, was brought out next and forces on his knees. His disheveled appearance, bruises, and pained expression on his face told me he had put up one heck of a fight. When he caught the sight of his younger brother, tears of grief filled his eyes and I saw one roll down his cheek. Then, with an outraged cry, he tried to break away from his captor, only to be rewarded with a swift kick to the ribs. A loud crack echoed in the air and an involuntary cry escaped Aiden as one or more of his ribs broke.

On his side, the older teen gritted his teeth against the pain, his breath more shallow due to the injured ribs. He glared up at Phantom and, if looks could kill, the man would be dead on the spot. Phantom grinned, "This one still has some fight left. We're going to have to change that."

Tear streamed down my face, "Please." I was no longer the stoic detective, feared by most of the criminals in the city. Instead, I was a father, a husband. Watching my family suffer was ripping me apart from within, the worst torture I could possibly imagine. I watched as Phantom beat my older son to a bloody pulp. I watched as the man stabbed Aiden with the knife used to kill the teen's younger brother. Phantom pulled Aiden to his knees, supporting his body with one hand as he held the knife with the other.

"Dammit, stop this!" I yelled, my voice cracking a bit from all the abuse. Blood dripped down my wrists and I fought to break free, my muscles aching from the constant tension.

"D-dad..." Aiden's voice shook slightly and he spit blood out of his mouth, inhaling a bit in an attempt to steady his voice. I looked up and saw the tears streaming down his eyes, a strong expression on his face. "Promise me." He cringed slightly at the pain in his ribs, "That you'll take this asshole down." He grinned slightly, blood covering his teeth as it began to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Phantom glared, annoyed, a moment before he slit Aiden's throat. Blood poured from the wound and the gasping noises the teen made would haunt me for the rest of my life as I just screamed. I screamed until I couldn't do so anymore. Soon, I was just a trembling mess as I watched my son gasp for his final breath before his eyes gazed into nothingness, the blood pooling around him. Time didn't seem real to me anymore. Heck, life itself didn't seem real. It was like a nightmare, a Hell I couldn't escape from.

Phantom laughed and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back so he could see me face. "Such a shame. A detective as strong as you already broke like a fragile toy. I guess that strength was just an illusion, detective. Now, how about we move on to the next, what do you say?" He walked into one of the bedrooms and returned with my wife. The left side of her face was coated in blood and her eyes seemed unfocused. Phantom pulled a handgun from the waistband of his pants and held it against my wife's head.

Rage broke me out of my stupor and I lunged forward. The metal chair tilted and I soon found myself falling sideways. A loud crack echoed in my shoulder as it dislocated when I hit the ground, but I was too angry to focus on the pain. I cursed at the criminal and cursed myself for allowing this to happen. Phantom laughed, "I would love to see you suffer more, detective, but I fear I have wasted too much time as it is. I have a schedule to keep, people to kill, you know, the necessary things."

Phantom pulled the hammer back on the gun, the click making me more cold than I already was. My wife stared at the bodies of her dead sons, not noticing the sound of her impending doom. She began to scream, tears streaming down her face. It was the most terrible sound I ever heard in my life, for I could feel her agony and despair. Her cry, like a Banshee, would forever echo in the house. Phantom cringed at the sound, "Shut up!" He pulled the gun away suddenly and fired into the ground next to my wife. Her wail only died when her throat couldn't handle it anymore and she was just left shaking, her eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Phantom placed the gun against her head once again, "Finally. Some peace and quiet. For the moment, at least." He looked back up at me, "Like I said before detective, I'm going to have to unfortunately make this one quick to keep with my schedule. I want you to remember that what happened here is your fault and yours only. You had this coming the moment you took responsibility of my case. Everything." He pulled the hammer back once again, "Is." He held the gun steady in his hand, resting the barrel against my wife's head. "Your." He tightened his finger on the trigger slightly, "Fault."

A loud bang echoed in the air and I found myself covered in gore. I couldn't move or stop the forming wail in my throat. I screamed until my already raw throat became entirely hoarse, tears making a pink line as it mixed with the blood on my face. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and a hollowness filled my body. Phantom returned the gun to the waistband of his jeans, hitting his hands together as if getting dust or dirt off his palms. "Well, it seems like I'm done here." Phantom walked by me as I stared at the bodies of my family, "It was nice to see you again, detective." I heard the door close, leaving me alone in the house. I was truly alone. My family, the house, myself... We were all dead.

*~*~*~* End Flashback *~*~*~*~*

There once was a chance I didn't take.

By not taking that chance, I was thrown into my personal Hell, one I deserved.

After losing my family, going to their closed casket funerals, and remembering that everything that happened was my fault, I worked to the bone to track down the man that ruined my life. I searched for him for five years before I finally found and cornered him.

My trustworthy 9mm Glock was levelled at the criminal's head, the weapon feeling right in my hand.

Phantom laughed, "Well, well, well, detective. It seems you have finally caught me. It's been, what, four or six years? I must say, I didn't believe we'd be meeting again so soon. I'm surprised you haven't drowned in your own despair yet."

I tightened my finger on the trigger, my hand steady and a calm feeling overcoming my mind and heart. I didn't speak, I just remembered the faces of those I lost. I remembered their smiles, laughter, and their pain. I memorized the details of their death, committed them to memory like my life depended on it. I remembered the mistake that lead me to where I am now when I didn't kill the criminal when I first had the chance.

I wasn't making the same mistake twice.

There once was a chance I didn't take...

So I found the next best thing.

A second chance.

A loud bang echoed in the night.

A/N: So, this is really dark, even for me. This is for "Missed Chances Revisited", a writing contest prompt by hannahsue--. I would've put more details if I had more time and a larger word limit, but it still gets the point across. Thanks for reading!