The Summer Anthology ✔

Story #25- Bleeding Hearts

Written by user Icehorses12

I kept my Ruger handgun in the night stand on the left side of my bed. I kept it there to scare the nightmares away. Sometimes at night, shaken by a bad dream, I would carefully open the drawer and grip the cool handle of it.

It made my life manageable.

And tonight is no different, as the darkness hides the face of the man that is threatening to cut my throat, but I can still see the blood drip off the shiny knife in front of him. With shaky arms and weak knees, I point my gun at him. He doesn't move. He just stands there with the knife out front, breathing hard as if I'm actually a tough fight.

We are at a stale-mate. His dark, beady eyes rake over my fragile body like a piece of meat. I need to move if I'm going to get out alive. There's no telling what he will do to me before he kills me. The creep lifts the edges of his mouth into a smile. Before I can react he lunges at me. I'm surprised at the motion and trip over my own feet. I hit the ground hard, banging my head on the wooden frame of my bed. The sound of the knife clattering on the floor gives me slight hope. Not much, though. The gun falls out of my hand and lands a few feet away from me. He grabs my waist and crawls further up my body.

My heart is thumping out of my chest.

I try to scoot away from him. The creep yanks me toward him on the carpet of my apartment, which gives me a rug burn. He slaps his hands around my neck. My nails dig into his hands that are threatening to close the airways that keep me alive. A small, weak shrill sneaks out from between my lips. I pull at his hands, but it's no use. My pulse is ringing in my ears. If only I can reach my gun, then I can get loose.

The creep's hands tighten even more on my neck, blocking all chances of breathing. The salty mixture of sweat and tears runs down the side of my face. With as much strength as I can muster up, I slam my forearm into the creep's elbow. He growls and loosens his grip on my neck. I gasp for air and scoot out of his grip. My knee makes contact with his gonads the next chance I get. His scream pierces my ears making me cringe and smile at the same time. I'm inches away from my gun and he grabs my foot. With the other foot, I kick him in his already crooked nose as hard as I can. He doesn't go far, but it gives me the inch I need. Wrapping my hands around the blood soaked gun, I aim at the man and pull the trigger.

The loud bang of the gun penetrates my ears. I can't hear anything. The creep that was close to stabbing me with the knife is now on the floor, clutching his shoulder. He didn't scream when I shot him, and that's what scares me the most. There's no time to check to see if he is alive.

I stumble to my feet, grabbing the wall for support. The room starts to spin and I press a hand to my temple. I'm bleeding down the side of my face and neck. The rock band tee I wore to bed is ripped down the side, barely hanging onto my body. My only thought is to get out of my apartment and get to the cop that lives down the hall.

I reach for the door, looking back one more time, and point my gun at the creep. He stands, and that's my cue to run. I slam the door behind me, hoping it will stall him. Then I run. Two doors down and I slam my bloodied fists against his door. No answer. I pound some more.

The creep from inside my apartment appears in the hallway, bent, bleeding and furious. His eyes show how angry he really is. They are black with rage. I point the gun at him. The horror of shooting a human shows in my face and the creep smirks at me.