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A pair of eyes fluttered open and squinted a bit as the bright white room around them beamed before them. It wasn't a very large room from what they could see but they weren't there to judge. The eyes would look down, realizing that the body below them was shirtless at the moment and there was a bloody bandage wrapping around it. Color began to show as the eyes finally adjusted to their surroundings.
The male was hooked to an IV and the rest of his body was tucked under a few layers of white sheets. He was cold. Even colder now since the sheets weren't helping very much. He would sit up to push them off but he immediately fell back onto the pillow, groaning loudly in pain as he did. The pain felt as if he were being stabbed with multiple knives at once.
Suddenly the door slammed open and a nurse had come in. It seemed that he was due for some painkillers, so he was given that so the pain in his chest and shoulder would weaken and that cold, uncomfortable sheet was put back over him. Then he was alone again.
He wanted to say something but it was like he was struggling to speak. Words were caught in his throat like flies to a spider web. As he laid there, giving up any attempts to speak, he began to wonder what day it was—what time it was. There weren't any windows in the room for him to even guess.
He'd let out a breath from his nose, replacing his sigh and closed his eyes again. He figured that there wasn't a reason to be awake if he couldn't say anything.
Namil didn't have a memory of anything. Not even his own self really. He knew his name and age—basic things. But he didn't remember anything that happened recently or anyone he had met during these past years.
"The hell am I even doing in here?" He thought. That voice echoed loudly in his mind. It sounded like it was right beside him.
The door would open again and there was a girl with long, red locs and there was a male with black locs that touched his shoulders. Namil opened his eyes again and he noticed them. They looked familiar.
The girl would quickly walk over to him, immediately hugging him and kissing him on his cheek.
"You okay? Can you hear me at all?" Yara asked quickly. Namil would only blink. He wasn't sure how to react. The male seemed to be partially brain dead. The two were told that Namil had been dead for two days and him waking up from death was impossible—but the doctors were surprised when they found that he was alive still.
There was a silence.
"I heard you . . ." He mumbled. Yara eyes lit up before she'd glance at Wesley with tears. "What's all this shit?"
Namil made an effort to point to the bandages that were wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Yara stared at Namil for a moment, hesitant to tell him about what happened. But it would've been better than lying to him.
"Okay—um . . . you got shot after you left your performance the other night."
The male furrowed his eyebrows. "I think I know what you talking about . . . but ion know. Who was there? Like, performing with me."
"It was a lot of people there. I can't name everybody." Yara answered. The longer he looked into the girl's eyes, he could feel the memories flowing back to him. Even the night of his death was clear to him. He knew he would die.
𝟕.𝟏𝟐.𝟐𝟑—𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄
"Aye, Slump, that performance was hype." Wesley complimented as he, Yara, Nevaeh and Namil walked out of the front entrance of the venue. Everybody still had adrenaline racing through them from all the hype.
"Yeah, it was lit like I expected it to be. Too bad Bean didn't come. I didn't know he wasn't jackin' Amiri like that." Namil scratched his neck.
"Chase been having his head in his ass but—it's whatever. I just don't see much of a reason to be beefing wit the nigga." Wesley shrugged.
"It's probably 'cus they both some sassy lil girls that can't sort out they problems properly." Yara chimed in, making Nevaeh giggle.
"I know Wes can be sassy. You know he a lil bad bitch, worda bro." Nevaeh spoke up. Wesley's face turned red and he'd instinctively play with his locs.
"Wow, so you go that way? Be who you are or whatever that song said." Namil chortled before Wes would playfully shove him. Namil shoving back.
"We can box right now." Namil taunted.
"I'm down for it. Hit me in the lot." Wes smirked as he would point to the somewhat empty parking lot. Since there was a back entrance way to the venue, every attending the show parked in the back. It just seemed easier for them.
"Bet it. Don't duck either." Namil smiled.
Moments later a car would pull up, it's engine roaring as it burned tires through the lot. The vehicle slowed and a window began to roll down.
"How you know they was coming?" Wes whispered to Namil as he watched Namil lift his shirt, taking the gun out from his pocket, making him follow suit.
"I've had dreams. This shit too familiar." The male answered before he would press his finger against the trigger, shooting back at those who shot at them. Him and Wes threw bullets side by side, not letting up. Soon enough, two bullets from the people in the car ran through Namil. The moment he was hit, the car sped off.
Namil's body was immediately picked up by Wes, who stood by his side the whole time. He would wince in pain by the sudden movements. It pained him that he knew what was going to happen rather than the actual bullets that ripped through his skin, creating dark, gaping holes with a crimson ring around them, bleeding heavily.
He was about to raise his hand to hold the wound down, but Wes would only move it.
"Slump, stay wit me, aight? You gone be okay." He heard Wes said faintly. His ears rang loudly and his eyes burned as tears welled up in them because of the pain. His vision started to fade away.
"Shit, I can't even see—but imma try." Namil rasped.
At this point Namil had been fading in and out of consciousness while Wesley tried to talk to him, making sure his friend was still alive. His eyes were struggling to stay open. The golden color in his eyes began to drain from his irises and turned into those blue, dead eyes.
