𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 | | 1917

13. THE PISTOL

" Why did she have to go, I don't know, she never told me. "

-

(Flashback nr 5)

JOSEPHINE DIDN'T EVEN have time to rush over to Louis before the others already were there. She pressed together her eyes, ready for more gunshots, but nothing came out of it.

Slowly opening her eyes once again, she slowly moved over to the scene, glancing at the others.

"L'enfer sanglant," she heard a voice muttering. Bloody hell.

On the floor laid Louis. His face wore an empty look while staring down at his leg. The fabric on his pants was now soaked in blood. Jo clenched the inside of her cheek, hunching over with her medical bag and opening it, struggling with her shaky hands. Picking out a bottle of strong liqour she found in a random glass cupboard and pouring it over the gun wound. He hissed in pain, Leurent holding him in his arms to keep him in place.

With a scissor, which they found in the kitchen drawer, Jo managed to get the bullet of the his torn skin. She then bound his wound tightly with another old roll of bandages.

With the help from Leurent, Louis managed to get up. Holding up the blood-covered bullet between his fingers, staring at it.

Jo turned to see a man sitting on the floor. She noticed the german uniform and flinched just so slightly. Philippe was hovering above him, checking his pulse, only to look over at them and shake his head. She let out a relieved breath.

Yet she couldn't go on without noticing his face. She knew that one of the gunshots had been placed in Louis' lower leg, but now she knew where the other one had gone.

The German had been shot in the face by Louis. His cheek had a deep cut in it, leaving it almost see-through, while blood came pouring out. One of his eyes was closed while the other stared out into nowhere. The dark red liquid had been splattered around the wall around his head and Josephine forced herself to look away from the horrific sight.
She felt sick. Everything about it went against the bare morals we humans had towards each other.

"Oh mon Dieu," she whispered under her breath.

Oh, God.

Louis seemed to walk alright, the others helping him while doing so and Jo watched. He had managed to snatch Jo's bottle of liquor and was now drinking the strong fluid in a single swig.

Jo couldn't get herself to look at the German anytime after that. You could barely recognize his features. His green-gray clothing was soaked and his hands had fallen onto his sides, a pistol lazily laying in one of them. The same that just had shot Louis.

She heard the voice of the men behind her, but nothing of it was registered by her.

How could they act like that? Like there wasn't splattered corpse lying only a couple of feet away from them.

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder, grabbing her attention. She turned and looked at Philippe. He had a blank expression on his face and it took some time for Jo to notice what he said.

"Tu peux prendre ça." You can take that. He nodded towards the pistol.

Jo stared back at him with disbelief in her eyes. Eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed together. She was shaking her head.