Hamilton OneShots

I'll Save You

Captain George Washington had been called in to investigate a speculated murder scene. It was around midnight on a drizzly Thursday, and he would much rather be at home with his wife and foster son, than here investigating the murder of a teenage girl. The call itself had been bone-chilling, he listened to it on his way to the scene. A frightened older woman had called in a distraught panic after she heard the blood-curdling screams of a young girl in the apartment below her, then she had heard silence. Obviously, the older woman was very shaken up by what she had heard and chose to call the police rather than investigate herself. She hadn't the slightest clue as to what happened, but from what she heard, it was easy to make assumptions.

Washington swallowed the thick air as he opened the door to the apartment, he cringed at the musty air which reeked of... something. He had an uneasy feeling as he carefully paced through the rooms, his gun tightly in his grip with his flashlight on. It was dark, and the unearthly silence made every step a challenge. All he heard was his shoes tapping on the ground, and the floorboards groaning beneath his weight with each step he took. He edged slowly toward the door of what he presumed was the master bedroom, he had been following the scuff marks on the ground and the trashed furniture with allowed him to hypothesize that someone had been dragged all throughout the apartment to this room. With a careful yet firm grip, he slowly opened the door. Opening it further and further, and nearly gagging at the sight he saw.

Tethered to and seemingly lifeless on the bed, lay a young girl no older than fourteen with her body stripped of clothes and laying in a horrific pool of blood. It was all Washington could do not to cry at this foreboding scene before him. The air now reeked of the repugnant smell of death and blood, a smell so horrid and nauseating that he had to squint his eyes and cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve. He gagged and approached the body. Through his eyelashes, his eyes slowly swept over the girl's body. Bruises, cuts, scratches and other unimaginable things riddled the poor girl's body. A single tear slid down Washington's face as he thought of seeing his son like this. This girl seemed so young and innocent. Her face looked almost peaceful now, soft, messy brown curls gently framed her face, her eyes were closed, and her head hung loosely. He let out a bleak sigh and placed his gun and light on the bed.

With careful fingers, he untied the rope which bound the girl's arms to the headboard. He slid his arms underneath her and picked her up. Washington nearly dropped the body when he heard a sigh. Hushed, and barely audible, but he still heard it. The girl's eyes opened slowly and widened in pure fear when she saw Washington. She let out a broken scream, her voice hoarse and weak.

"Shh, don't be afraid, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm an officer," Washington spoke gently.

The girl mustered deep and labored breaths, but she calmed ever so slightly when she noticed the badge on Washington's now bloodied uniform. She let out soft, broken sobs from the previous events and looked him in the eyes innocently.

"Y-you w-w-won't h-hurt me?" She hesitantly asked in a quiet voice. Washington replied with a gentle shake of his head.

"No, I'm here to help you," he promised as he sat her on the bed. She winced in pain and squeaked out softly. Washington felt sorrow and pity for her, he couldn't, nor did he want to, imagine what had taken place here. He grabbed his radio and called for an ambulance, saying the girl was alive. He was still shocked that this girl hadn't died, but it was his job to make sure she would stay that way.

The paramedics came and checked over her body, Washington remained at the scene until she was rushed to the hospital. He stayed until being informed that she would indeed recover, at least now he could sleep a little easier. Of course, nothing ever saves him from the images that haunt his brain at night. He had seen many things that left mental scars on his mind. Rapings, murders, kidnappings, assault victims, shooting victims. If anything, Washington was surprised his job hadn't given him PTSD, or some form of mental illness. After all, these things were all he could think about on his drive home.