Personal Injury

Personal Injury is a horror story about a man whose wife is attacked one evening when she is home alone. It is based on an old episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, which was based on an old short story by Samuel Blas called “Revenge”.

I was working as a personal injury lawyer when Melissa came into my life. I fell in love with her the moment I met her. She was a very beautiful woman. I knew she was the perfect woman for me and someday we would be married.

On our wedding day, we took our vows at the altar. She swore she would never leave me. She would stay with me through thick and thin. I promised Melissa I would always take care of her. I would never let anything bad happen to her. I would always be there to protect her.

When we came back from our honeymoon, we moved into a little bungalow outside town. I set up a law office and Melissa took care of the house. Our married life was bliss and we settled into a comfortable routine. Every day, after I finished work, I would call Melissa and tell her what time I’d be home for dinner.

However, that all changed one evening when I called Melissa and she didn’t answer the phone. That was the first indication I got that something was seriously wrong.

When I arrived home, I was shocked to see the front door standing open. At that moment, I knew Melissa was in trouble. She needed me to protect her. I grabbed a hammer from under the car seat and rushed inside.

“Melissa, I’m home!” I shouted. “Where are you? Melissa!”

She didn’t answer. There was an ominous silence. The kitchen was empty and the dinner was burning on the stove. I turned it off and looked around. Everything was in disarray. Broken plates and smashed bowls were strewn about the floor.

Gripping the hammer in my hand for protection, I searched the house, calling out my wife’s name. I found her in the bedroom, lying on the floor. Her clothes were torn, her face was bruised and bloody, but she was still alive.

“Melissa!” I cried. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she groaned. “A man broke in… He demanded money… when I told him I didn’t have any, he started hitting me… He wouldn’t stop hitting me… I couldn’t fight him off… It hurt so much…”

“Don’t worry, I’m here now,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

I picked up my injured wife and, holding her in my arms, I carried her out to the car. Opening the door, I laid her down as gently as possible in the back seat. Then, I hopped into the driver’s seat and we drove off towards town.

“We’ve got to go to the police,” she said.

“We will,” I replied, “but first, I’m going to bring you to hospital.”

Behind me, I heard Melissa let out a little gasp. Her injuries were serious. I cursed the fact that I hadn’t been home that day to protect her. I had to get her to a doctor as soon as possible.

We drove through town, but on the way, we got stuck in a traffic jam. I started honking my horn, trying to clear the way.

Suddenly, I heard Melissa cry out, “There he is!”

“Who?” I asked, startled.

“The man who attacked me! That’s him! That’s him!”

On the left hand side of the street, there was a man getting out of his car. Melissa was pointing at him.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She became hysterical. Tears were pouring down her cheeks and she was having trouble catching her breath.

“That’s him! That’s him!”

I pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car. My brain was boiling over with rage. I got out of the car, still clutching the hammer. The man was casually walking down the street, without a care in the world. I followed him.

Then, I saw him turn down a dark alley. I don’t know what came over me. I just planned to rough him up a little then hand him over to the police. Somehow, I lost control of myself. I couldn’t stop.

It was over in a few seconds.

When I came back to the car, Melissa seemed to have calmed down. We didn’t say a word to each other. I grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood from my hands. Then, I hid the bloody hammer under the seat and we drove off.

When we got to the hospital, I helped Melissa out of the car and carried her to the emergency room. As we walked through the front doors, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and grabbed my arm tightly. She was trembling as she pointed at one of the doctors.

“That’s him,” she whispered urgently. “That’s him…”

Then she pointed to one of the nurses.

“That’s him!” she screamed. “That’s him!”