Hood Still Don't Love You (HDLY#2)

chapter two

Rock should have died that night. That shot to the chest and the one to the face should have ended his life. He should have been a corpse waiting to be picked up by the coroner van.

But he didn’t die that night. He had survived. He had made it long enough to strip a homeless vagrant of his clothes and killing that same vagrant. He not only killed the man but left a message in the vagrant’s chest as a message, no, better yet a warning. Rock had let the other homeless person live only to make sure that message was seen.

Rock looked and smelled like he had risen from the dead. Dry blood that was still covering his gunshot wound in the stomach stuck to the inside of his new clothes. Added with the fact those clothes weren’t exactly the cleanest to begin with, the stickiness made rashes and lesions automatically on his body.

His cheek had been sunken from the bullet to the face carving a nice opening showing the inside of his gums. He looked like a walking zombie out of a horror movie. But he was up and still on his feet. With the broken bottle he used to kill and carve his first victim still in his hand, he walked around looking for another target.

Men, or Johns, frequent that part of town a lot looking for street hookers that lined up and down the place. He found where the hoe stroll was and waited patiently. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. His wounds, left untreated and still open would get the best of him and he would eventually lose out.

He felt the wetness from the middle of the new dingy hood sweater he was now wearing thanks to the vagrant he murdered. His chest was opening back up, dry blood was now being replaced with fresh wet blood.

Rock’s life was still on a timer. He needed a way out to get help. He spotted a car coming down an alley, Rock assumed, looking for shady business with one of the ladies that were posted on the corner.

Rock pulled the hood of the sweater more tightly over his face. It had the hideous scar that now marked his face but not by much. He waited until the car stopped by one of the ladies then he made his move.

Rock walked right up on them while the lady leaned her heard in the car to talk prices. He just came behind her, pushed her aside and reached in and pointed the broken beer bottle to the driver’s neck.

“Give me your keys and your wallet,” Rock ordered over the hooker’s screams. She was on the ground so he kicked her still keeping his hand with the broken glass on the guy’s throat.

The guy slowly took out his wallet and showed it to Rock. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“That’s why I’m talking your car,” Rock said yanking at the guy’s collar to get out of the vehicle.

The guy complied and got out of the vehicle. He still had his hands up.

“You can take the money, but I need the wallet,” the guy pleaded.

“Don’t give me orders,” Rock said pushing the man on the floor and taking his wallet.

He emptied the wallet of the monies inside and tossed the wallet back on the guy.

“You lucky I already left one message already,” Rock said getting in the car and driving off.

Rock was feeling light headed. He knew he needed medical attention but a hospital was the last place he needed to be. But he still needed some kind of help.