The Criminal Outrage

Chapter 5

What was the pain coming from? My head? No, I couldn't be. My neck? That could be it. I've had my neck kicked in fights many times before. It couldn't be my spine...could it? I had no idea as I saw sirens flooding the area. I couldn't even recall seeing people, honestly. The biggest memory I had was the color of the lights. Red and Blue.

Turns out that I had suffered some pretty extreme injuries. The pain was coming from my head. Plus my neck...and my spine, too...so I was actually correct. The main thing that crossed my mind is that the Gang probably did not win. I only remember getting destroyed along with Winchester and the other guys, so why would I think differently? One of the most depressing things about how my mind was working was how I cared more about my Guitar than my injuries. I was a nervous-wreck. What if it was crushed? Ran over? I had little verification when I saw a glimpse of Her, leaning against the corner of the Ambulance. 

I was the only one in this Ambulance. The others were in separate Ambulances. Did the other Gang get Ambulances, or did they leave with hardly any injuries? Surely the Gang couldn't be that weak. We took them by surprised and still lost. They came before us prepared, but I'd have never thought that they'd beat us down after a surprise attack. 

Hours later, I pulled my thoughts back together. I didn't get too many visitors, other than the Guys. Who was I expecting, the Queen? I didn't have anyone to look to other than the Guys, so it was pointless to think more clearly about the subject. 

Throughout my Life, I have almost always gotten the short end of the stick. If you don't know what I'm talking about (which you most likely don't), I have always been the most injured, most sick, and more. I've always been too young to go into the Clubs where some fights happen, and being completely honest- It's the worst. I feel like I've missed out on everything. 

In this situation, I also had this happen. I was the LAST one to leave the Hospital. I was the MOST injured. The others only suffered some bruises, cuts, stuff like that. I suffered a concussion, multiple cuts and bruises, pulling of some of my muscles, broken ribs, and- do I have to continue? Anyways, the others waited for me, Day and Night. All I ate at the Hospital was some disgusting Soup. I stayed there for 3 Weeks before I finally was released back into the World. I was fully recovered, but I didn't feel that way whatsoever. Soon enough, I'd be back, but hopefully with nothing worse. Everything felt sore as I walked along back to the house. None of the Gang tried to talk to me. I don't know why. I wasn't a changed person. Maybe physically, but not mentally. The only time I've changed Mentally majorly was my first fight. I threw the opponent to the ground, and started to walk away, but he had something different in mind. He shot me, straight through my left shoulder. I saw the blood, and I fell face-first. When I turned around, he had a ginormous hole in his forehead, but not from a bullet. Sling decided to sling him, straight to the forehead. I've heard before that at full speed, a rock from a Sling has the same force as the average handgun. 

My Guitar was fine. No scratches or holes, Thank God. I'm surprised no one tried to break it while I was being pummeled. Now that I think about it...did I even bring my Guitar to the fight? Ya know what? I did. I guess the adrenaline was so strong that I forgot where I put it. Thinking about this:

"Hey, did any of you guys see me put my Guitar anywhere before the fight? I don't remember," I broke the silence.

Maddog laughed to himself. "You just have a bit of memory-loss from the kicks you suffered."

"It's not funny. I'm actually asking."

Ricardo finally answered me seriously, "Yeah. You left it at the spot in which we watched them set up. You really don't remember? I mean...I don't think it's memory-loss, but come on, Pick. You gotta' remember something like that. Ya know, never mind. It was probably the adrenaline that made you forget, huh?"

"Yes! That's what I was thinking! One more question-," Before I could start again, Maddog groaned from annoyance. I still continued talking. "We didn't win that fight, did we, Ricardo?"

He just shook his head, and I knew why. He was embarrassed. I was, too, but Ricardo LOVED being a Criminal. He wanted to be homeless and be a criminal for the rest of his Life, like Maddog, too. Maybe they'd be the army of two, you never know. All I know is that I'm leavin' soon to go play Music. 

When we got back to the Base, I hit the couch with a crash. I wasn't about to fall asleep-