Chapter 5 Blood That Doesn’t Wash Off

I cried until my throat hurt. The pain in my thumb throbbed with every heartbeat, sharp and relentless, but it was nothing compared to what burned inside my chest.

I stayed on the floor for a long time, my back against the cold tiles, my hand pressed weakly against the wound as blood continued to seep through my fingers.

They had come into my house. They had beaten me. They had used me. And then they left like it meant nothing.

My breathing was uneven as I forced myself to sit up. The room spun slightly, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it. I could not stay there. I could not lie on the ground like they had reduced me to nothing.

I staggered to my feet, holding onto the edge of the table for support. The house looked worse now than it ever had. Drawers hung open, furniture was displaced, papers scattered everywhere. It no longer looked like a home.

It looked like a place that had been violated. Just like me.

My jaw tightened. This wasn’t over. I was not going to let this end here.

“They will pay,” I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse. “I swear they will pay.”

That night, I barely slept. The pain in my hand made it impossible, but even without it, my mind would not have let me rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Victor’s face, calm and unbothered. Like everything he had done was justified.

By morning, I had made up my mind. I was going to the police.

The station was not far, but the walk there felt longer than usual. People glanced at me as I passed, some noticing the dried blood on my shirt, others simply recognizing me. I ignored them all. I had only one thing in my mind. Justice.

When I entered the station, the air inside felt thick and stale. A few officers sat around, talking quietly among themselves. One of them looked up when I approached.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I want to report an assault and a muder suspect”

That got their attention. They exchanged looks before one of them stood and gestured for me to come closer. He introduced himself as a sergeant Nelson, his tone calm but watchful.

“Start from the beginning,” he said and I did. I told them everything.

From the night I overheard Victor to what happened in the house. I described the men; the bald one, the one with the scar, the one who held me down.

I described Victor in detail, even though they already knew him. I told them about the file, the knife, the way they forced my thumb onto the paper.

As I spoke, I watched their faces carefully. They seemed attentive. Their expressions didn’t show shock, anger, or even urgency. Just.. neutrality.

When I finished, there was a brief silence.

Then the sergeant nodded slowly. “We’ll take a look.”

“I want him arrested,” I said quickly. “You know who he is. You can find him.”

“We’ll handle it,” the sergeant responded with a smile. I wasn’t convinced. Still, a few officers followed me back to the house.

They walked through the mess, taking a few pictures, glancing at the broken furniture and scattered papers. One of them crouched near the dried blood on the floor, then stood again without saying anything.

“That’s all?” I asked.

“We’ve seen enough,” the sergeant said with a pat on my shoulder.

I stood in the doorway as their vehicle disappeared down the road, a strange feeling settling in my chest. Something was wrong. The next day proved it.

The phone rang in the afternoon. For a moment, I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

There was a brief pause at the end of the line.

“Why did you have to complicate things, Damon?”

My grip on the receiver tightened instantly.

UncleVictor.

“You involved the police,” he continued, his voice calm, almost disappointed. “That was unnecessary.”

My heart began to pound, but not from fear this time. It was from anger.

“You broke into my house,” I said. “You attacked me.”

“And yet, you’re still alive,” he replied as if he had done me a favour. His words sent a chill down my spine.

“You think they’ll help you?” he added quietly. “You think anyone will?”

I said nothing.

Because suddenly.. I wasn’t sure anymore.

“You should have listened,” Victor continued. “You should have left when you had the chance, Damon”

“Stay away from me,” I said through clenched teeth.

A soft chuckle came from the other end.

“Watch your back, Damon.”

The line went dead.

I remained standing there, the receiver still pressed to my ear long after the call had ended. The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he had said.

That night, I locked every door. Every window.

I checked them twice. Then three times. I knew it might not matter. But I did it anyway.

I kept the knife close, placing it under my pillow before lying down. My body was exhausted, my mind running in circles, but eventually, sleep began to pull at me.

I don’t know how long I slept before it happened. But something woke me. It was a sound. Soft. Too soft. My eyes opened immediately.

At first, everything was dark. Then I saw it. A moving shadow.

My body reacted before my mind fully caught up. I grabbed my knife and rolled off the bed just as something lunged toward me. The impact missed me by mere inches. I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding wildly as the figure turned toward me.

He was masked. Damn, he could be a she but I didn't have time to study the physique. I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t need to.

He came at me again fast. He was faster and stronger than me. I barely managed to dodge the first strike, stumbling back as his arm brushed past my shoulder. Pain flared in my body but I ignored it.

I swung the knife and he blocked it. His grip was powerful, his movements precise. This was not someone guessing. He knew what he was doing.

Panic surged through me. I tried to back away, but he closed the distance quickly, grabbing my arm and slamming me against the wall. The air left my lungs in a rush.

I struggled, twisting, trying to free myself, but he held on. His other hand came toward my throat. His grip tightened and I couldn't breathe anymore. I reacted instinctively. My knife moved before I could think.

I drove it forward, straight into him. We both froze.

A loud gasp erupted from my mouth as I realized what I had just done.

His body jerked and a low, shocked sound escaped him as his grip loosened.

I stared at him, my hand still holding the knife buried in his chest.

I hadn’t meant–

I hadn’t–

He staggered back, his hands clutching at the wound, his breathing uneven. A faint gurgle escaped his throat but his eyes stayed on me.

I just stood there, frozen, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I stared at the body on the floor.

My hands began to shake.

I had…

I didn't kill him, did I?

The realization hit me like a wave. This wasn’t like before. This was different. I took a step back. Then another.

My mind raced, trying to catch up, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But there was no time. There was no time.

Victor’s voice echoed in my head.

“Watch your back.”

This wasn’t over. It had only just begun. I turned and ran out of the room. I ran down the stairs, out of the house. I didn’t stop. Not once, not even when my lungs burned or my legs threatened to give out. I just ran into the night. Away from everything.