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by Nathanial Robb
The blood spurted from the wound around the serrated blade dripping onto the floor, the Soldier stared ahead, confused. He fell to the floor landing in the pool of blood, staining his uniform a pale red as the knife was pulled from his back. He struggled to catch a glimpse of the assailant as he blacked out after watching the house set ablaze.
The fire truck sirens shattered the silence of night, slashing loudly through the suburb. Neighbors meandered out onto their lawns, drowsily as police tried to set up a police line.
“There’s a body in here!” one of the firefighters said, running out of the house. The paramedics were directed to the front of the house as two firefighters cautiously dragged the body from the house, towards the paramedics.
“He’s still breathing,” one of the paramedics stated. “It appears this may be more than just an accident,” he added signaling for one of the police officers.
“Looks like a stab wound,” the officer said as the paramedics worked on preventing the bleeding and stabilizing the patient. “Some kind of serrated knife,” he added. Suddenly a young, gorgeous brunette came bursting through the police line, running over to the body, sobbing as she shot glances between the house and the body. Two officers jogged after her, attempting to calm her down.
“That’s my boyfriend, that’s my house,” she blurted out before breaking down on the lawn.
“We have to get him to the hospital and into surgery now,” the paramedic told the woman calmly.
“And you need to come with us,” the police officer said helping the woman up off the ground.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked.
“We won’t know until we get him into surgery ma’am,” the paramedic answered truthfully.
The fluorescent lights blazed against the sterile tile reflecting harshly across the room as the soldier blinked looking up at the ceiling of the hospital from the gurney.
“He was legally dead several times but we brought him back to life,” a voice stated, a whisper to the soldier who’d lost hearing in his left ear.
“What happened?” the soldier asked loudly to compensate for the loss of hearing.
“You were stabbed,” a police officer replied. “Your girlfriend admitted to it during our interrogation.”
“Why would she…” he said his voice trailing off.
“Sir I know it’s hard but I assure you this is not a lie. Your girlfriend did this, she stabbed you, she was trying to cover up your dishonorable discharge. It’s called an honor killing.”
“She wouldn’t do this, she wouldn’t, she’s an angel. She wouldn’t,” he tried to rationalize with himself breaking down crying realizing what had happened.
“I’m sorry sir,” the police officer said turning to leave. “Very sorry.”
This story was based on these randomly generated images.