Choices She Made [18+]

Chapter One- Home Is Where The Blood Pours

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Chapter One- Home Is Where The Blood Pours

No no no! My heart screamed out.

"Robert!" I cried out into the empty space.

Blood, there is so much blood. Red coated his body completely. The sticky substance covered me with red. I held my husband in my arms in our small little home.

Home is where the heart is... My head whispered.

Roberts body laid limp in my hold around him. My dear husband was dead in my arms. The sticky red poured from the gun shot from his head. Between the eyes, blood leaked out. So much blood came from him. I tried to stop the blood from seeping out; but kept coming until it ran out.

Our clothes were ruined, soaking up the blood. His white shirt he was wearing earlier was dark red. His black pants stained as well. As for my clothes they were tainted red to. Before they were baby pink now well you can assure they were red.

"Why did this have to happen?! Why him?!" I screamed a deafening cry. "I love you Robert. Please please don't leave me. Come back to me." I tried whipping the blood off his face but only smeared it. "I love you baby please come back. Don't leave me! You can't leave me!"

The police and ambulance came an hour later. The door busted open as they crowded quickly into the room. The sight of me holding my dead husband with blood dried on our flesh made them freeze. The police and paramedics asked me if I was hurt.

I replied, "No not me. Please, please help him! Save him! Do something!"

The tears kept running down my face, mixing with blood. They lightly pulled me away from Roberts body. I tried to fight them and tell them to leave me alone. I didn't want to leave him but I knew he was already gone. I only wished I could have heard his voice one last time. Told him how much I love him and cared for him.

How he changed my life four years ago when we firsts started seeing one another. How scared, nervous, and beyond happy I was the day we got married. If only I would have left work sooner and gone out to dinner like he planned instead of him staying home to cook. That was when I noticed the dinning room table set to perfection.

Rose pedals laid out on the table. Two candles lite standing tall next to various of foods. All our favorites, but the one that stuck out the most was a apple pie. He had cooked it many times over the years to get it just right, only because I loved it.

I began to weep louder, my heart shattering piece by piece every second. The police escorted me away from the wrenching scene of my husband laying brutally murdered in our kitchen floor. The paramedics coming over to examine me.

In that moment all I could think of is the blood on me. I began to shake, feeling sick. I pushed them away leaving bloody hand prints on their shirts. Vomit rose in my throat as I puked into a small garage pin. I began to itch all over, needing, wanting the blood off me.

I dug my nails into my skin until my own blood began to pour. Pulling at my blood caked hair, my heart racing.

"Sir she's loosing!" Someone yelled.

"Men back away." Another voice ordered.

I cried and screamed, "no no no! Get this off me! Oh God! Someone help me! ROBERT!"

Hey guys!

So this was short and intense. What are you guys thinking? What do you feel about this?

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