Cold.
So cold.
I should feel pain, but I’ve gone numb. I can’t feel pain but that of the cold of the winter’s air, biting at my skin and stabbing into my exposed insides. At least my blood is warm. This thought sends a small chuckle though my throat, pushing out more blood to crawl across the asphalt and bringing back pain, reminding me not to move like a mother scolding her child for behavior that can’t be helped. I settle back down and let the road press into my face. It feels like some muscly hunk of athleticism hugging me against it’s literally rock hard pecs and don’t ask how I know exactly what that feels like.
Alright, I’ll tell you. See, I was picked on constantly by this jock, right? Well apparently, he only joined the team because he was afraid of being ridiculed for his homosexuality, so one day after I just dropped to my knees and sat there for a few minutes because I had enough of that day he came up to me after we were the last ones in the locker room and he just hugged me really tightly and cried that he was sorry and I was just like whatever and then we went on our merry ways.
Funny, right?
No.
Actually, that’s a pretty lame story especially since I’m dying a cold death on the street. I live like… three blocks away? I don’t really remember. I know this is an odd part of town, so it’s not likely that anybody will drive past and discover me any time soon. Hell, what were the odds of this anyway? Not only did somebody have to drive down here, they had to be a junker as well. They also had to have a sharp piece of metal sticking out just enough and at just the right angle that I couldn’t see it, thus assuming it was safe, and crossing the road, getting my stomach sliced open.
Tendrils of red dashed out of my abdomen. Time slowed. I sucked in a gasp of air, sending more fluid running down into my navel, down my pants (both under and over), and splattering on the ground with little plit, plit sounds melting snow and shit-brown slush. I smelled the iron in my blood. I have always loved the scent and taste of blood, but now it only terrified me.
I exhaled and everything caught up to me. Pain tore into me, ravaging my nerves. I wanted to scream. I wanted to take all the pain and expel it through my mouth with my vocal chords. And I would have, except it wouldn’t. It found the hole in my stomach and decided it like the place. Bought, sold and paid for, and not leaving. My throat could only squeak and choke, leaving me to fully acknowledge and experience the pain.
Finally, I was able to shudder, but those breaths held the last of my strength tightly and they were going on a vacation far away from here. My legs collapsed and my arms did a half-assed “sup, ground?” as they tried to break my fall but ultimately failed and then I blacked out.
For like a second.
Anyway, here we are, you’re all caught up now, and I’m slowly descending into my death as if it were a bed awaiting me after a long, day of manual labor. It’s so tempting, but I think that would be pretty boring on your end, right?
Why didn’t that guy stop anyway? Did he not see me? I think he did. That little shit! Probably didn’t want to be responsible for killing a “kid”. I hate it when people call me that. I don’t think it’s acceptable past the age of 14 or 15. I’m going to kill that mother fucker! I’ll make him suffer worse than I have. I’m going to pop out his eyes and drive nails through his FUCKING BALLS!!
I should probably calm down, I mean I was the one jaywalking and coming from between cars.
Yeah.
I’m just gonna go to sleep.
They’ll find me, right?
Yeah…
