by E. M. Smith
I guess I’ve just got one of those faces.
*****
I came to in the back of an SUV. Bravo was slumped over against the back gate with his eyes open, but glazed over. Except for the blood running down the side of his face, he looked totally peaceful.
When I lifted my head, a pipe bomb exploded in the right side of my face. I winced.
“The other one’s conscious,” a heavily-accented voice from behind me said.
“Got it,” a different voice said.
A needle stabbed my bicep. I tried to thrash and flail around, but I felt the drug spread through my arm and up into my shoulder. The pain in my face melted away. Everything melted. Morphine? Heroin? Whatever it was, it was warm. Soft. Quiet.
*****
Waking up to the sound of somebody banging on shit is never good.
I put my hands over my ears to shut it out and tried to scoot further back into the corner. My cheek hurt so bad. I must not’ve hidden fast enough.
“Hey!”
I opened my eyes. That wasn’t Mom yelling. I wasn’t under my and Owen’s bed back in our parents’ trailer.
This room was about five foot square, made out of old two-by-fours and corrugated tin.
Across from me, Bravo had his eye up to a screw-hole and he was pounding on the wall.
“Hey,” he yelled again. “Somebody fucking answer me!”
I sat up. The spot under my right eye throbbed and white lights flashed all around my field of vision. Vomit pushed up the back of my throat. I swallowed, but the acidic taste stayed. It was hot—a hundred degrees, at least—and so damn humid that my clothes were plastered to my skin.
“What the hell?” I groaned. “Where are we? What’s going on?”
Bravo turned around and leaned against the wall.
“Whiskey fucked us over, bitch-boy. That’s what’s going on.”
THE END?
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Bad Decisions
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Bad Environment
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Bad Ending
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About the Author
E. M. Smith is the kind of guy who puts his initials on the cover to seem professional, but continues to act like a completely unprofessional hick everywhere else. You can call him Mason if you want to.
If you just can’t get enough Mason in your life, you can hang out with him over on Twitter at @masondixonsmith or drop him a line at [email protected].