Blood Stains on the Carpet
SS by Jennifer

(Loosely based on a scene in Nora Robert’s ‘River’s End’.)

 PG-13

Justin’s POV 

I walked up to the huge doors of our mansion. I didn’t even know why this house was so big. It took forever just for me to walk up the front steps. It was practically screaming ‘look how rich we are!’ like every other house in this neighbourhood. She was the one who wanted this “perfect” house. Whatever.

 My vision was a bit blurry. I knew loud noise would seriously hurt my head but I banged on the front door anyway. No one answered. Lazy. She could never do anything for anyone but herself.

Mumbling curses under my breath, I dug into my pocket for my house keys. I opened the front door and stumbled into my elegant, luxurious home. I light turned on at the top of the staircase. “Wade?” she called. “Is that you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you baby.” I replied. She came down the stairs quickly, obviously surprised to see that I was home. “While you’re here,” I said. “Why don’t you explain to me what my good friend Wade would be doing here, in my house at this hour?” She said nothing, and just stared at the floor. “Well?” I asked, my voice getting louder.” I grabbed both of her arms. “Tell me!” I yelled. “You’re hurting me. ” She said quietly.

My hands gripped even tighter to her, bruising her. She winced from the pain. “Stop!” she said. I stared at her. She looked beautiful. I leaned in to kiss her, forgetting I was ever angry before. I loved her so much. It felt like it had been too long since I’ve kissed her. She pulled away from me. “Fine.” I said. “Tell me.” I repeated.

“You’re drunk.” She stated, her angry glare on me. “Shut the hell up!” I yelled. “This is about you and Wade, not me!” I finally let her go and she rubbed her sore arms. “What do you take me for? A fucking moron?” I asked her. She stepped back. “What? Are you afraid?” A smashed a vase on the floor, just to prove my point. “You think I don’t know you’re screwing him while I’m gone?” I yelled.

Tears fell from her eyes. I felt bad for making my girlfriend cry. I didn’t want her to cry. I ran over and took her into my arms. “Don’t touch me. ” She hissed. Rejection, it felt horrible. “Fuck you. I hate you, you fucking whore!” I yelled and slapped her hard across the face. She sobbed, but I could care less.

“So how long have you been fucking him?” I asked angrily. She didn’t answer, which just flared my rage. I punched her, making her nose bleed. “Why would you do this to me?” Hot tears spilled from my glassy, bloodshot eyes. “I give you everything, everything! I love you…then you betray me?” I smashed more things in the spacious room. She stood still, not daring to say a word. “You damn slut! Why won’t you answer me?” I yelled. “You’re drunk.” She said, barely a whisper. I hit her. “Shut the fuck up and give me some fucking answers.” She pushed me. “Get away from me.” 

A drink. I really needed a drink right now. “I’m so sick and tired of you coming home whenever you want. Coming and going as you please.” She cried. “And when you are here with me, you’re so drunk you pass out or you’re violent. I hate it. I hate you.” Her words seared into me.  “I don’t even know you anymore.”

I slapped her again, to get some sense into her. “Shut up! Shut up!” I closed my eyes tightly, desperate not to let her awful words hurt me, not to let her sobs and tears get to me, not to let the fact she was making love to another man kill me. “You’re an asshole. That’s why I’m with Wade.” She had finally given me the answer I asked of her. “He doesn’t hit me. He doesn’t come back here drunk and abusive, he loves me, unlike you.” She spat. “I-I do love you.” I told her.

“Fuck you, you’re a fucking bastard. A pathetic excuse for a fucking man.” My blood boiled. “What?” I grabbed her neck and slammed her against the wall. “Repeat what you just fucking called me!” She gagged as I pressed harder on her slender neck. “Not so talkative now are we?” I smirked. I felt her body start limping under my hand. I released my grip on her throat. She lay on the floor, beaten and battered, gasping for air.

I’d hurt her. There were bruises all over her neck. I bent down and scooped tiny body in my arms. She fought back, and then stopped because she was too weak. I stroked the purple places near her collarbone gently.

“Oh god.” I sobbed. “I am so sorry, so so so sorry.” I kissed the top of her head. “I love you. Please forgive me.” I touched her cheek, her face was battered. “I love you baby.” She pushed away from me, but still, I held her close. “I love you.” I repeated over and over.

I stroked her blonde hair then kissed her softly. I lay her on the bed and made love to her. She protested at first, then stopped and kissed me back. Suddenly, she kissed me and got up. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked. She cried as she pulled her clothes on. “No, not again.” She shook her head. “You can’t just beat the shit out of me, and then have sex. No way. Not again. Never again.” She frantically tried to cover parts of her exposed body as of I’d never seen her naked before. “I’m sorry baby, please forgive me. I---you don’t know how much I regret hitting you.” I cried. “It won’t happen again.” I meant it from the bottom of my heart. “Forget it J. You’ve given me this fucking speech a million times; it’s not going to work again.” I got up from the bed. “Please believe me. I love you. I’ll get help…I’ll---" She interrupted me. “Screw you.” She started to walk out of the bedroom. I couldn’t let her leave. I ran and held the door closed. “No.” I said. “I-I love you.” She didn’t believe me. “No you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t go drinking every night. You wouldn’t abuse me and leave me to cry myself to sleep. No J, that is not the way you treat someone you supposedly love.”

She tried to shove me out of the way. “Where are you going?” I asked. “To Wade’s” she replied icily. “To a man that actually shows me some kindness and respect, and most importantly, love.” I blocked the door with my body. “No, don’t go.” She hit my arm. “Let me go now!” she demanded. “I don’t love you anymore. I love Wade!” I pushed her up on the wall and put my body close to hers. “You love me!” I told her forcefully. She shrieked and swore at me at me, but still I held her. “Tell me you love me.” I said. She continued to struggle. “Fuck you. I’m sorry I ever met you.” She spat the cruel words at me, and I finally let her go. She was surprised at my sudden hurt I backed away from her, tears blurring my vision. My head was pounding and my heart was aching. How could she say that to me? After everything we’d been though together? “I love you.” I said quietly. She looked away.

I grabbed the pair of scissors that were lying on the nearby table. I slowly and quietly went up to her. Her body was still and warm. I put my hand on her shoulder and her eyes widened when she saw me behind her. I heard her gasp for air and she fell. Did she faint? I didn’t want anything to happen to her, so I bent down to check on her.

She was bleeding, a lot. Blood flowed out of her stomach and onto our lush carpet dying it a deep, dark red. Why was she bleeding? I turned her slim body over and the handles of a pair of sharp, shiny scissors were sticking out.

“Brit? Oh my god. Brit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Somebody help me!” I didn’t know what to do. The mansion was empty and my panicked voice echoed. I sat there with her limp body in my arms. “Britney!” I called her.

I tried to stop the bleeding. There was blood all over my hands and clothes. The smell made me sick. I pulled out the scissors. Pulling out my cell phone, I called 911. “Hello, 911 operators.” I heard. “Help me, help me please.”  I was so scared. My voice was quivering and I was shaking. “My girlfriend, she’s, she’s…been stabbed…she’s help me. Help me please.” I sobbed over the phone.

Her lifeless body lay in my hands. The operator desperately tried to calm me down enough to get my address. I heard the sirens in no time. I had to leave. I took a final gaze at her; I’d killed the only woman I’d ever loved. I kissed her eyelids softly. “I love you.” I whispered and fled out of the room, blood still on my hands. What have I done? The memory of this night would haunt me. Blood stains the carpet.