My Squadmates Splashed Me with Holy Water and Insisted I Was a Vampire

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...

The sound of my lungs being shredded sounded like a punctured tire leaking air.

My mouth was stuffed with a rag soaked in gun oil, choking off any sound I tried to make. Above me, the dim incandescent light of the Afghan frontline barracks glared, making me dizzy.

Three of my bunkmates, dressed in desert camo, stood by my cot, staring down at me from above.

"Don't panic, a cross through the heart... he's dead for sure this time." The one speaking was Corporal Jack, his hand clutching a handful of pungent garlic.

Medic David squatted down, shining a high-lumen flashlight directly into my eyes. "Look at his pupils. They constrict way slower than a normal person's under bright light, and the back of his eyes is red. There is definitely something wrong with him."

Private Smith, who just returned holding several sharpened mop handles, loudly agreed, "He's absolutely a vampire. My grandmother said vampires' eyes look exactly like this!"

I struggled desperately, the tactical zip-ties cutting deep into the flesh of my wrists, issuing muffled, furious grunts from my throat.

How the hell did things escalate to this?

Just half an hour ago.

I had just returned from a patrol on the base perimeter. The moment I pushed open the door to the tin-roofed barracks, a cup of water was hurled right at my face.

The second the liquid touched my skin, a violent, searing pain exploded.

I let out a low growl of pain and violently dodged to the side, my back slamming hard against the metal lockers. I hopped back several steps to create distance.

"Fuck! Why the hell are you splashing hot water on me?!"

I furiously wiped my neck, where a large patch of red, swollen blisters was visibly raising on my skin. It burned like hell.

Jack stood in the middle of the room holding an empty canteen, glaring dead at me. "Arthur, you're a monster. You're a vampire!"

I froze for a few seconds, then let out a laugh born of pure anger. "Have you been smoking too much pot?"

"I’m not joking. Your reaction just now was exactly like the vampires in the legends." Jack looked highly vigilant.

"That's because I was burned by a chemical agent!" I pointed at my raw, red neck. "What the fuck did you lunatics put in that water? Bleach? Battery acid?!"

"A normal person wouldn't leap that far back," David said, hiding behind Jack. "I just tested it. Your muscle reaction speed for dodging is completely beyond human limits."

I was so pissed I could have died right then. "I'm a retired Delta Force operator! You FNGs (fucking new guys) are freaking out over a basic evasive maneuver?"

"We are serious," David said with a deadpan expression. "Your behavior is severely abnormal. Who comes back from patrol without drinking water, and just stands blankly in the shadows outside the barracks in the middle of the night? Plus, your body temperature is chronically lower than normal—we've been watching you for days!"

"Can't I have insomnia in this damn warzone?! My low body temp is a thyroid issue; it's practically written in bold in my medical files!"

"People with insomnia get anxious, they smoke. You don't! You just stand there, not even breathing, like a fucking corpse!" Jack added loudly.

I was utterly speechless.

Yes, I had severe sleep disorders.

Sometimes I'd go out to stand guard in the middle of the night, using special forces' tactical breathing techniques to force my body into a state of absolute stillness just to calm my nerves. Did my tactical discipline really become ironclad proof of being a monster in their eyes?

I was too tired to argue with these madmen suffering from warzone syndrome. "Think whatever the hell you want. I'm going to the infirmary to treat this damn chemical burn."

"Wait!" Jack blocked me. "You might still be putting on an act. If you aren't a vampire, why are you afraid of holy water?"

"What holy water?"

"What I just splashed on you was holy water blessed by the base chaplain yesterday." Jack stared at me closely. "If it was just ordinary water, why would you jump up in pain and break out in blisters?"

I clenched my fists aggressively. "Bullshit! That water hit me like sulfuric acid. It was heated! Don't even try to feed me these bullshit excuses!"

"It was room-temperature water. I poured it straight from the chaplain's bottle. No additives whatsoever," Jack emphasized.

I was momentarily stunned, unsure of how to clap back.

Could it really have been room-temperature water?

No, impossible! I felt it vividly—the moment the water hit my skin, it was highly corrosive!

But how could one mouth win an argument against three?

They were already completely submerged in mass hysteria. In this isolated, high-pressure warzone, they needed a "monster" to vent their fear of war upon!

The conflict escalated instantly.

When I tried to forcefully leave, they ganged up and ambushed me from behind.

If this had been the battlefield, I would have dislocated their joints in three seconds, but my hesitation—fearing a court-martial—earned me a heavy blow from a rifle butt.

By the time I woke up, I was already tied to this cot.

...

"The vampire is afraid. Look how hard he's struggling," David exclaimed.

"I'm not afraid! I want to kill you retards!" I roared, furious to the core.

To my surprise, Jack wasn't intimidated; he looked thrilled. He pulled out a piece of wood shaped into a cross, the top whittled to a viciously sharp point.

The cross was covered in drawn runes.

"This is the ultimate test. My grandma said a stake through the heart kills a vampire. If you die, you are a vampire!" Paranoid madness flickered deep in Jack's eyes.

"You guys are insane! This is going to fucking kill someone!"

When I realized they weren’t joking—that they were dead serious—I felt like I was suffocating.

Squelch.

The sharp edge crushed my ribs and pierced flawlessly through my heart.

Pain.

Bone-deep, agonizing pain.

Blood instantly filled my chest cavity. Amidst extreme frustration and terror, I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a spectral state, floating near the ceiling of the barracks, staring vehemently down below.

My corpse lay on the cot, the makeshift stake stuck in my chest.

The three bunkmates stood beside it, their faces pale as sheets.

"Is... is he really dead?" Smith collapsed onto the floor, his voice trembling.

Jack took a deep breath, the first to regain his composure. "No shit, his heart is impaled. But we need to get our stories straight!"

"What do you mean?" David held his head, breaking down. "We murdered someone!"

"Shut up! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in Leavenworth?" Jack gritted his teeth. "Listen to me. No one is going to believe he was a vampire. We have to make this look like self-defense!"

David froze. "How?"

"We say Arthur developed a severe case of combat depression! Tonight, he had a complete psychotic break, pulled a knife, and tried to murder us. We defended ourselves in hand-to-hand combat and accidentally killed him! As long as we stick to the PTSD defense, the military tribunal can't convict us!"

Smith nodded frantically. "Right! Right! He's been acting crazy, not sleeping at night for days. We are the victims!"

I hovered mid-air, glaring at this sickening scene, my very soul trembling with rage.

I wanted to dive down and scream: You lying scumbags! You conspired to murder me!

The Military Police (MP) came, and so did the CO.

The three of them wept bitterly as they recounted my "late-night psychotic break."

The military doctor didn't even perform a thorough autopsy before ruling my cause of death as "mania induced by severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, killed in justifiable self-defense during an altercation."

Seeing this outcome, my soul convulsed with madness.

Why?!

Why did I have to die completely innocent in this hellhole, endure torture, and bear the stigma of a lunatic? Why do these psychotic murderers get to walk away scot-free with their paychecks?!

I wanted revenge!

I wanted to use every means necessary to drag these lunatics straight to hell!

This violent resentful energy almost ripped my soul apart, and then—

Splash!

An extremely dangerous sound of water echoed abruptly in my ears.

I opened my eyes. Just as my vision focused, a cup of water was hurled right at my face.