𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 | HuskerDust

Four

A scream left his mouth as pain shot through his leg. Tears filled his eyes and his chest heaved as he gasped for breath. Why was he always the one with the worst luck? What had he ever done to deserve such treatment from this cruel world?

While trying to free his hands, the two men had come in and caught him trying to escape. Unfortunately, the price to pay was the bullet being taken out of him in the most painful way possible. 

"Hang in there kid," the voice from before stated in a not-so-soothing way. He let out a screamed sob as more pain shot through his leg. His body felt heavy and his head felt like. "Aye! Ya'll cut a vein if ya ain't careful, ya asshole!

"Does it really matter, Husker dear?" A second voice asked as something sharp poked him once more. His vision was getting blurry again as he begged and pleaded for the two to stop. Eventually, the pain became too much for him and he blacked out once more.

The last thing he saw before passing out was a sinister smile and sad eyes.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

A rough hand with a gentle touch and something warm brought him back into consciousness. It took his mind a moment to catch up with what had happened as his eyes refused to open. He didn't want to wake up and face the reality that he was trapped with no escape.

He had been stupid and careless enough to run from his father and get himself shot in the first place, then he had to go and walk into an alley at night with two dangerous strangers. Had he really lost his will to live that much? Did he really choose to walk into danger simply because he couldn't find it in himself to care anymore? Probably.

"I know yer awake kid. Might as well open yer eyes," the rough voice from before murmured. He forced his eyes to open and looked up at the male before him. The lamp on the bedside table was on and he was able to see that he had been bandaged and patched up completely - not just the two bullet wounds.

"What's the catch? Ya don't fix up a fuckin' stranger without wantin' somethin' from 'em," he demanded, voice sounding groggy from sleep. The male before him sighed softly and twirled a pocket knife.

"Yer a witness ta a crime, kid. So da boss and I made a deal. Ya work for da boss, and we'll give ya a roof ova' ya head, food ta eat and keep ya safe from da coppers," the man explained. His eyes widened in suspicion and confusion.

Alright, something was definitely fishy with these people. No one ever lets a witness survive, nor do they make deals about them.

"Ya really don't have no fuckin' clue on how ta deal with a witness, do ya?" He asked before yawning a little. "Yer s'posed ta torture me an' make me beg ya ta live, only fo' ya ta kill me anyways."

He gave the man a cocky smile, feeling smart.