Hopefully do some critiques as well
Catch up with people... you know the drill.I wrote this for an assignment (just had to base it around a philosophical quote, which is in the description), I'll admit it's pretty sloppy even for an overnighter, I honestly do not know how they marked this an A- for a year 12 short story -__- (new school, new state, different English expectations levels apparently).
BUT, I expect you guys to rip it apart mercilessly (as per usual).
I'll get around to cleaning it up sometime soon, just want to know what you guys think works, and what doesn't :/
Anyways, here's Bed Soaked Red:
Drip.
Who knew the old man had so much fight in him? I guess he who sucks the will from all those around him must in turn gain some.
Drip.
But he could no longer hurt those who he claimed to “hold dear”, I had made sure of that.
Drip.
She, who had come to school black and blue on a regular basis, would no longer have to endure another drunken rage.
Drip.
I had always claimed she would be better off if he disappeared. She would always dismiss the idea, holding some sort of unconditional love for the beast.
Drip.
I had respected that, stood by and watched her love go unheeded, returned by only brutality.
Drip.
I inhaled, smelling, tasting even, the metallic, bittersweet aroma of near-death. I could hear his ragged breathing, coming in gasps through his crushed windpipe.
Drip.
He lay on his lacerated torso, his mattress soaked red. Occasionally the underside would drip, adding to the pile of congealed blood underneath.
Drip.
She had called me, begging for help, said to drive to the old east park, close to her home. Five minutes later I pulled up, and saw her sprawled across a bench, black and blue, with a trail of red leading from her mouth, across her deathly white cheek, the only unblemished spot on her beautiful face. He always had favoured his right arm.
Drip.
I had taken her to the emergency room, reminding me of the day she had let slip her feelings for a boy in front of him, she never did tell me who she had referred to but he had made clear his feelings on the matter, I had had to carry her twelve kilometres to the E.R. that day.
Drip.
From the moment I saw her lying on the bench we would eat our lunch on as kids long ago, I knew I couldn’t let this go on, she had suffered too much, had let it gone too long. Now she was in a fight for her life.
Drip.
I made the doctor reassure me she would be ok, and made my way to her house with the intention of finishing what I should have that day long ago.
Drip.
I stormed into the house, only to find his drunk pitiful self unconscious on the bed. I fetched a machete from the kitchen, and well, the rest was glorious, beautiful justice.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I thought of her, whether her operation to stem her internal bleeding had gone well. The nurse had she was in capable hands, that she would be in a stable condition in no time. I had to trust in that.
Slowly the scent filling the room turned sour, not so fresh anymore. I heard the machete clatter to the floor, but could not remember dropping it. A lone fly lazily glided through the open window, and landed on the corpse. I couldn’t imagine it being exactly tasty, but each to their own I figured.
I stood staring at the body for a few minutes, not really thinking about anything. Only when my eyes crossed the drying stain on the carpet underneath the bed did I realise something was missing; he no longer dripped.
He had run out of blood to drip, it was truly over.
What have I done?
-----
The next morning I heard the piercing shriek of sirens outside of the house, and the heavy footfalls approaching the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“How much says the old man’s skipped town?”
“Skipped town? He’s probably still too drunk to stand up.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Sir, this is the police, if you don’t answer the door we will be forced to enter via force.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
… “Sir, if you are behind the door, please step aside.”
Knock. KNOCK. CRACK.
The sound of wood shattering could be heard as a round entered the door lock and a police officer’s boot connected, sending the door swinging.
“Oh my god! What’s that smell?”
“Philip, go check the bedrooms, I’ll take the rest.”
Through my peripheral I saw a man in a blue shirt enter the room and stop dead at the doorway.
“What is this… in here Steve.”
Another man, who I assumed by then to be Steve, in blue entered, also stopping short. He stood, stunned for a moment, then slowly drew his pistol. Motioning with his hand to Philip, after a moment of hesitation, he also unholstered his pistol and exited the room.
Steve slowly edged toward the now truly rotten corpse, and pressed two fingers against the neck. After several seconds he withdrew his hand, looking downcast.
“Clear.” Came the call from what I assumed was Philip’s voice. Steve simply sighed and crouched down next to the bed.
I knew what I had done, but surely they could be made to understand the circumstances. I was not a bad person.
Steve had yet to notice me, curled up in the corner, dead still and covered in a dry red wash. I thought I had better make myself known, lest they discover me and assume I was hiding and decide to use their weapons.
I sat up and tried to greet Steve, but it stuck in my throat, like someone was holding my neck denying my vocal cords. I couldn’t make a sound. I reached out, leaning forward to tap him on the shoulder.
Footsteps were heard coming into the bedroom, and Philip could be heard exclaiming .
CRACK.
Pain seared through my abdomen and my hands instantly retreated to the unwelcome wound. Steve jumped to his feet and turned to see me clutching my side, new blood coating the old.
The last thing I remember of that day is the room spinning as the pain overtook me.
-----
“Sorry, but he’s still not conscious.”
“Can I see him anyway?”
“… Hurry.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Hey Milo, how’s things?”
…
“You most likely can’t hear me, but I wanted to say my goodbyes anyway. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t.”
“But, how could you? He was my father, my only family.”
“You promised me, you wouldn’t do anything rash should anything happen to me. Now we can’t have a life together, they’ll lock you up and won’t let me see you.”
“I know you did it because you care about me, and you know I love you, but it’s over now. I won’t get to see you for decades. We both have to live with your choice.”
…
“Goodbye, Milo.”
