I stumbled and caught onto the pole on the roadside. My breathing laboured, I winced with every moment. My free hand still pressed to the wound in my abdomen, I leaned against the stand. My hand on the pole slid down, leaving behind a bloody smear, exhaustion claiming my body. I tried sitting down and immediately withdrew from the idea as a fresh gout of blood poured through my fingers. Horror gripped me. I had to get the bullet out. I looked up at the sign board, trying to read it. The words all blurred into one, the neon light above me kept flickering. I didn’t know where I was, West Road something mumbled my fuzzy mind. I gritted my teeth and put one foot in front of the other trudging along the path, leaving behind nothing but a bloody smear. I could have rested I think, could have lain down, could have let the blood drain my life before pain could. No one would know, I think as my breathing quickens, not if I had let go under that flickering bulb.

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