Elisa Muse
The searing pain was crippling, and between the blinding pain and the writhing of my teeth, I heard the paramedics tell Leon that I was lucky. I couldn't imagine being part of the shot of a fatal wound shot.
They wheeled me into the ER, removed the bandage, and cleaned the wound again. I hissed and writhed some more. I didn't handle pain well, and being alone in an ER gave me the creeps. I hated doctors.
"You don't remember me, right?" the doctor who was treating my wound said, and I squinted my eyebrows. I was sure he was trying to distract me from what he would do next because usually when they start chatting casually, it is when the f*****g stab comes.
Did I mention I hated the smell of antiseptic, the white walls, and the squeaky vinyl floor? Yes, I hated everything a
