Aw shit.
He's whipped out a knife. Definitely not good.
Oh, look. His pal's got one too. Lucky me.
The bartender's quietly wiping glasses in the back. Perhaps he thinks if he ignores it, it'll die down.
I think I'll die first.
Aw shit.
—————————————
The cab swerved through the incoming traffic, the driver's vice-like grip on the steering wheel never faltering. It's late, and the hospital's only a few blocks down from the college. The bite on my hand oozes out blood, and I can feel myself getting weaker. I just hope I make it till tomorrow.
—————————————
The bandage is wrapped tightly on my hand. A taxi stops, and I get in. God, I'm so going to regret all this spending. As the driver makes her way into the thickest part of the traffic, she points to a great crowd of people, surrounded by a million floodlights.
"That there's the movie premiere of that kids' movie, whaddya call it?"
"The House with a Clock in its Walls?" I answer.
"Yeah, that's the one. My little one's just aching to go watch that shit. Told her I'll sneak her into the cinema, but she wants to go for a private screening."
The cabbie sighs, wisps of her hair wandering off.
Her eyes meet mine in the rear view mirror.
"This city's gone to rot, hasn't it?"
As the traffic starts to move, I spot a familiar bar just a few shops down from the crowded cinema. I quickly turn on my phone, scrolling through my chats until I find the right one.
"Hey, is it ok is you could stop here?"
————————————-
I'm sitting in a booth, the bar empty save for a rather rowdy couple in the back. I'm tapping my foot gently on the floor, but I know him and his lackeys will be here. I'm their only supplier.
The bell rings. There he is, with only one punk with him. That's a first.
He slides opposite me, and the other follows. He's dressed in a white tracksuit, and he's clearly trying to flash his fake chains. The other's a more burly, quite guy, with long, greasy black hair, very poorly dyed.
We say no words. I pass him the bag, he shoves the money across the table. Done.
But he should be leaving now. Why is he not leaving now?
I see the flash of a scale before I feel a sharp pain slicing at my thigh.
I hesitate, before jumping out of the booth, making a run for it. But my foot is grabbed, and the floor rushes to face and the wind knocked out of me. I'm quick, though, and I'm back on my feet again, eyeing the two buffoons in front of me. The couple's gone quite now, waiting for the show to truly begin, for just a bit of fun.
Yeah, fun.
As Jumpsuit McGee starts towards me, the bell rings again, and someone steps up behind me.
