It was a combat knife
But I thought it was a steak knife from the kitchen. He had plunged it into his chest and dragged across in a line that resembld a shirt collar. The blood was so dark there it didn’t even look like a wound at first. He stared up at me with an intensity that was unnerving, the knife steady in his right hand in spite of what could only be descibed as massive blood loss. I spoke first “drop the knife.” I was calm, collected and firm. Inside I was playing out the scenario of him attacking me. I couldn’t tell what his aim was yet. Had he snapped? Was he depressed? “Hey, could you give me some pills?” he replied. My heart raced as a familiar sound came from within him. a low Gurgling rumble. Inhuman in quality, and bizzare in every way. I’d heard it earlier, when I had arrived.
Seeing the blood soaked footprints was my first indication, yet I didn’t even believe they were real. I called out “Hey are you ok?” and that was were it first greated me. That low gurgling noise. Later someome would tell me that it was likely his lungs filled with blood. In the moment though it was a total mystery, sounding so internal that I thought it may be a bowel movement but much louder and more consistant.
“Drop the knife man.” I repeated. “Somethings wrong with me… I just need to end it.” he replied. I buckled back toward my room shouting “yeah, I’ll help you out.” I peaked in the garage to see what the footprints led too. A pool of blood and a crusifix. I hurdled upstairs and called my housemate. “Call the cops!” was the obvious advice, but I was hoping for something better, some way to save him, some way to undo what I had seen and make everything better. I ran back downstairs through my room shouting “I’ll get you some help man” as I furiously threw boxes out of the way of my door. I grabbed some valuables, made my way to my car, and called 911.
The phone locked into emergancy mode, which seamed reflective of my internal state at the time, and I thought briefly about how appropriate it was. A voice came up and I rattled off a string of things that seamed important. Address, something about a knife. Everything sounded low. The world was drowned out by the thought of what I’d just seen and done.
“Police or ambulance?” she said. “Huh? Umm, both?” the questions continued and I struggled to find answers to simple things. “What are you wearing?” “a suit.”, “What is He wearing?” “blood.”. I unlocked my phone.
A single officer arrived, gun drawn. I gave him information as backup made it’s way up the driveway. Soon there would be over 10 officers and a pile of medical units. They asked me to drawn a map. I did, somewhat inaccurate, but I beamed with pride as I got to show off my long lost CAD skills. Doors are little wedges. don’t forget the stairs. It didn’t stop them from breaking 2 doors and a window to shoot him with a taser. Questions and answers continued till my body could take no more. I collapsed on a bed upstairs. The work day ran long and next I knew I was home again to an empty house. The water gurgled as I washed my hands. The floors creaked. I walked past his room expecting to see his face. Shadows were alive, and my skin crawled.
It took 2 more nights before I could sleep there again. I still havn’t spent the night in my room and it’s been 4 days. I don’t know that I ever will. A detective came over yesterday, as well as the landlord. I’ll be moving out on the first. Lots of change for such a small period of time, I’ve managed to stay mostly drug and alchohol free though so far. I have had some caffiene and nicotine, but no booze or recreationals. I need to use this as inspiration. If life is so precious to me, if the loss of a 21 year old is so horrific to me, then I need to start acting like it. I need to start respecting myself, and treating the people around me like they are precious.
The morning before this I started a 90 day self help program on releasing, I intend to resume it though I’ve taken a short break from it for the past few days. I’ll be posting updates on this and on therapy (which may be from a criss counsler for now) in seperate subcatagories here on this site.
RIP Nick. I’ll miss playing monopoly with you, and awkwardly talking about sex.
Seeing the blood soaked footprints was my first indication, yet I didn’t even believe they were real. I called out “Hey are you ok?” and that was were it first greated me. That low gurgling noise. Later someome would tell me that it was likely his lungs filled with blood. In the moment though it was a total mystery, sounding so internal that I thought it may be a bowel movement but much louder and more consistant.
“Drop the knife man.” I repeated. “Somethings wrong with me… I just need to end it.” he replied. I buckled back toward my room shouting “yeah, I’ll help you out.” I peaked in the garage to see what the footprints led too. A pool of blood and a crusifix. I hurdled upstairs and called my housemate. “Call the cops!” was the obvious advice, but I was hoping for something better, some way to save him, some way to undo what I had seen and make everything better. I ran back downstairs through my room shouting “I’ll get you some help man” as I furiously threw boxes out of the way of my door. I grabbed some valuables, made my way to my car, and called 911.
The phone locked into emergancy mode, which seamed reflective of my internal state at the time, and I thought briefly about how appropriate it was. A voice came up and I rattled off a string of things that seamed important. Address, something about a knife. Everything sounded low. The world was drowned out by the thought of what I’d just seen and done.
“Police or ambulance?” she said. “Huh? Umm, both?” the questions continued and I struggled to find answers to simple things. “What are you wearing?” “a suit.”, “What is He wearing?” “blood.”. I unlocked my phone.
A single officer arrived, gun drawn. I gave him information as backup made it’s way up the driveway. Soon there would be over 10 officers and a pile of medical units. They asked me to drawn a map. I did, somewhat inaccurate, but I beamed with pride as I got to show off my long lost CAD skills. Doors are little wedges. don’t forget the stairs. It didn’t stop them from breaking 2 doors and a window to shoot him with a taser. Questions and answers continued till my body could take no more. I collapsed on a bed upstairs. The work day ran long and next I knew I was home again to an empty house. The water gurgled as I washed my hands. The floors creaked. I walked past his room expecting to see his face. Shadows were alive, and my skin crawled.
It took 2 more nights before I could sleep there again. I still havn’t spent the night in my room and it’s been 4 days. I don’t know that I ever will. A detective came over yesterday, as well as the landlord. I’ll be moving out on the first. Lots of change for such a small period of time, I’ve managed to stay mostly drug and alchohol free though so far. I have had some caffiene and nicotine, but no booze or recreationals. I need to use this as inspiration. If life is so precious to me, if the loss of a 21 year old is so horrific to me, then I need to start acting like it. I need to start respecting myself, and treating the people around me like they are precious.
The morning before this I started a 90 day self help program on releasing, I intend to resume it though I’ve taken a short break from it for the past few days. I’ll be posting updates on this and on therapy (which may be from a criss counsler for now) in seperate subcatagories here on this site.
RIP Nick. I’ll miss playing monopoly with you, and awkwardly talking about sex.