His stomach raised and lowered slowly as he took slow, labored breaths. He felt weak and cold as he lay in a puddle of his own blood. A never-ending, burning pain emanated from the dagger in his chest, and was quickly spreading to every orifice of his dying body. He struggled to twist his head, and examined the room. Overturned furniture littered the floor, along with broken wood from the door. He saw a few spots of dried blood, and, on the ground, a single bullet shell shone from the light of the moon outside. He continued scanning the room, and stopped.
His heart froze. Directly in front of him, was his wife; she was nailed to the wall of his bedroom in the fashion of a reverse cross. Crimson blood trailed down the walls from her wrists and feet; where her beautiful eyes once were, only bloody holes remained. Chunks of her head and hair were missing, only adding to the pool of crimson liquid beneath her corpse.
He was in shock. His pain intensified as he stared upon the horrific scene. Hot tears formed in his eyes, and began dropping to the floor. His limbs felt heavy, his head felt glued to the floor. A metallic taste filled his mouth, quickly followed by the bitter taste of bile. He struggled to flip over onto his stomach, before he was suffocated by his own vomit; succeeding in having the dagger dig further into his chest.
He tried to scream, but only blood and vomit emerged. He flipped onto his back, and looked forward, noticing something: tied to the dagger, was a small piece of paper. It took every ounce of energy he had to grab it. Once he had it, he struggled to bring his shaking hand back, seconds passing like hours. He unfolded the paper, and was confused by what he read. Written in red letters, was the cryptic phrase: We told you so...
He was dead before he could begin to understand it.