The Accidental Manslaughter

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He felt the knife as it sliced through his innards. He looked at her, horrified. She looked just as shocked as he was. He didn't belief she could actually do it. She didn't believe she would actually do it. She had plunged the knife into him without a second thought- in the heat of the argument.

He still couldn't belief that he was dying. He felt himself fall forward to his knees. He clutched at his stomach, the blood flowing freely as he gasped for breath, the oxygen seeming to thin. She screamed, as hysteria found its way into her. Then she put her hand to her mouth to stiffle the scream.

His eyes widens, the eyeballs seeming to diminish against the white background. Then, just like that, he gave up the ghost. She screamed even louder, screeching and sobbing and wailing and doing all kinds of panic dance. Then the idea struck her with a force that would've impressed even the biblical Samson. She scuttled, as fast as her wobbly leg could move her massive body, to the telephone waiting at the stand. She clutched it with her big, fat, sausage fingers, dialing 9, then 1, then another 1. She took the phone to the flank of her head and whispered hello- hello officer, I have a man down. Oh God my husband- Jesus, he is dying, she said. Calm down, calm down was the reply at the end. Anyway, it really didn't matter, old Billy was as good as dead. Gone to heaven, or hell!

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