Cold Blood

            As I walked into the door I finally collapsed on the couch, tired with the day.  Even the cold, solid marble floor would’ve made a great bed for me then. I was so tired…traffic duty was f*****g hell.  I’d successfully gotten caught up in assisting with two accidents, and arrested 6 genius’s driving ‘under the influence’.  Rolled off of my stomach, and onto my back, groggily looking up at the clock: 2:17 AM. 

 

            I was in f*****g disbelief…two o’ f*****g clock in the morning…and I would be going back tomorrow at 5:00 AM.  My body felt liquefied and boiled, my eyes dry and burning.  It was a chore just forcing myself to rise from the couch.  I picked up my journal, quickly flipping to the first blank page, and began to scribble down the events of the day-the events of the first day of traffic duty.  Shortly after starting, a shadow  passed over me, and I could hear breathing. 

 

            Instincts took over, and I jumped up away from the chair, quickly facing my adversary.  A man stood before me, on the other side of my couch, covered in glass, cuts, and blood-he’d obviously broken in through the window.  His eyes were sunken into his head, shadows obscuring them from me-and his bare, red painted torso was swollen and tight with obvious muscles.  On the couch where I’d been lying, a 2 foot bowie knife remained sunken in, spilling the cotton-like insides of the couch.

 

“What the—“

“You k-killed”

 

            With effortless strength he tore the knife upward towards me, slicing the cast upon my arm as I flinched away.  In a moment of quick wit I used my good arm to grab a cushion from the couch, flinging it up just as he brought the knife down once more, spraying the air with the soft white clouds of the cloth.  Before he brought the knife down once more, my instincts kicked in, and I dashed in, cracking his nose upwards with my elbow, then spinning my arm so my back was to him, I slammed the arm now cast-free into his crotch.  As he lurched forward with a groan, I hooked his head with my arm, and with all of my weight and strength slung him over me, flat onto his back on the marble. 

 

            Instantly, he dropped the knife, and I moved for it as he caught my broken arm and snatched me down onto the ground with him.  I cried out as adrenaline failed to dull the pain through my arm, and my attacker quickly locked a powerful hand on my throat, cutting off what felt like all circulation-even blood.   

 

            This was the first time I peered into his eyes-hollow, grey and wide.  My body ran cold, but I could not so much as shiver as I stared into his eyes, which seemed like those of a dead man.  My body went limp, and the only thing I could do is look at his eyes as the world around me sank…I think he’d picked me up. 

 

“Killed her…you’re the one who…”

 

            He stabbed his knife towards my face-he’d had another one.  His own trembling hands missed my face, instead hitting my neck, down at the connection with my shoulders, and I mustered a slight cry as I felt my top right half run into a cold pain.  With a newly motivated fear and control of myself, I used my good arm to grab his knife wielding hand, and pulled it towards me, biting down on it and forcing him to drop his knife.  I held onto his hand as he released me-a poor action brought on by fear-and my knees buckled as his fist lifted just below my ribs and all of my stamina ran in a single weak cough.  I gagged on my own airlessness and increased weight as I stumbled back and fell a matter of steps from him.

 

            I felt his foot land on my side, then I felt my back land against the wall, I looked up just in time to see the sole of his shoe smash into my face-and in the flash and run of blood I knew I was dead.  Surprisingly, he didn’t just kill me…he struggled to speak clearly as I coughed, trying to breathe, only catching my own blood.

 

“Why did you have to ruin everything?  We had our whole lives…we had everything…and you fucked it all up!  What’d she do to you?”

 

            Through the red tint in my face blurring my vision, I saw his face as his voice broke…he was crying.  I understood who he was now-he was Carrie’s fiancée…and my heart sank.  Now that I took him in, he bore a striking resemblance to Mortig…bald, tall…strong, piercing eyes and what may have been a kind face if not for circumstance.    I struggled to utter the one thing that came to mind as he watched me waiting for a reasonable answer, his eyes burning down upon me with a grotesque and guilt bearing hatred.

 

“I didn’t mean for…any of t-this…” and blood sputtered yet again from my mouth, and I could speak no more.

 

            Unsatisfied with my answer, I felt his foot smash against my thigh, and then with a grunt of effort I felt his foot dig into my stomach, and then the top of my head-vision went blank.  I heard him scream his question, ‘why?’ once more, as his foot buried itself into my throat-then finds my face once again.  I’m not sure how long things went on like this but that I was alive was proof that it couldn’t have been too long, before I heard my door burst open, and a familiar voice screaming my name.

 

“Deputy Sylva!”

 

            I heard the man above me shift, and then I slowly curled into the fetal position, overtaken with pain and fear. 

 

“Oh God…FREEZE!  Put your hands over your f*****g head!”

“Why?  She can’t kill me now…”

 

            My assailant and my savior exchanged those words before I felt his knife rip out of my shoulder and then heard a gunshot ricochet above me.  My assailant’s footsteps were fast, and by the time the officer had reached me, he had already gotten out of the window.  I felt fear subside as the glass shattered, and then I felt it renew as pain began to course through me, burning and searing my throat as I forced a cry that soon turned into blood-then a heave…I threw up…

 

“Deputy Sylva, can you hear me!?  S**t…this is bad…”

 

            And then I lost all consciousness…