Hard dreams and a side of life
As the pain flooded my body, I struggled to make sense of the situation. I heard a car door slam and the squealing of tires outside. The room was pitch black, and I couldn't see a thing. I tried to reach for the lamp on the nightstand, but the pain intensified with each movement. When I finally managed to turn on the light, I saw the damage of the bullet wound. I screamed out in frustration and pain, struggling to control my breathing and heart rate.
As I sat there, trying to make sense of what had just happened, I remembered where I was. I cursed myself for falling asleep at her house, it was not my usual way of handling business. I also noticed that she was not in bed with me. I didn't even know her name, she was just a high-class prostitute to me. I had strict rules when it came to my business dealings - no getting attached, no first names, and definitely no getting comfortable. But I had let my guard down and now I was paying the price.
Despite the intense pain, I knew I had to act fast. I needed to find something to bandage my wound and get out of there before anyone found me. I slowly got up, the pain making it difficult to move quickly. I scanned the room for anything that could help - sewing kits, bandannas, hand towels, anything. I couldn't worry about infection at the moment, I just needed to stop the bleeding.
As I searched the bathroom, I couldn't help but notice the luxurious furnishings. This woman had expensive taste and loved the finer things in life. I couldn't believe that I was going to have to set this place on fire to cover my tracks. But I couldn't leave any traces behind that would lead back to me.
Finally, I found some gauze and ace bandages in one of the drawers. I walked back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, the blood staining the once pristine sheets. I carefully wrapped my wound and took a moment to catch my breath. The pain was still intense, but I knew I needed to keep moving.
I remembered that I had arrived on my motorcycle and my keys were probably in my jacket pocket. As I reached for the drawer in the nightstand, I found my cell phone and my wallet. In a moment of relief, I also found a bag of drugs - my last bag of dope. But I couldn't focus on that now, I needed to find my keys and get out of there.
I put on my jacket, hoping it would provide some protection for my wound, and checked the pockets. Nothing. But then I remembered my jacket was hanging on the doorknob and my keys were probably still in it. I quickly grabbed my keys and my wallet, along with the bag of drugs, and made my way towards the door.
But before leaving, I couldn't resist taking a quick look around. I stumbled upon a large medicine cabinet, filled with an assortment of pills. I grabbed some painkillers and quickly downed them, hoping they would take the edge off the pain.
With my mind slightly clearer, I started plotting my escape. I needed to disappear before anyone found me. But before leaving, I couldn't help but be curious about the door I had noticed earlier. I quietly opened it, revealing a luxurious bathroom with a large tub filled with bubbles. But my curiosity turned to shock when I saw her - the woman I had been with - lying lifeless in the tub, shot in the head.
I was struck with a sense of sadness, even though I barely knew her. But I couldn't let my emotions get the best of me. I had to focus on getting out of there before anyone else showed up. I quickly made my way out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, grabbing the bag of drugs and making my way out of the house.
As I rode away on my motorcycle, I couldn't help but think about the events of the night. I had broken my own rules and now I was paying the price. But as the drugs took hold, my mind began to fog again and I knew I needed to focus on my next move. I had to lay low and figure out who had shot me and why. But for now, I just needed to get as far away as possible.