(Pictured Above: Kurt Cobain. 2/20/1967 - 4/5/1994. Shotgun wound to the head.)
I last remember being pushed through hospital door after door on a strecher.
Well, fuck.
Isn't my day going swell? Long story short my band got a record deal in the area. This was huge for us, so we decided to party. A couple of downers later and the next thing I know I've plummeted a solid 30 feet off a balcony and landed head first on the concrete below.
My friend hesitated calling the cops as we had various amounts of various narcotics stowed away in the beachside apartment. The second he actually saw me, those thoughts changed from 'holy shit the cops' to 'holy shit my friend is going to die'.
Although he was high himself, he managed to act all nice and sober and he told them the sporadic, blurry moments that ended with me having a chunk of Myrtle Beach side walk penetrating my face. After what felt like hours as my friend did all efforts to slow the bleeding, the ambulance finally arrived and I was hauled off to the hospital.
Things aren't looking good. Despite the more than likely broken skull bringing me the most unbearable pain in existence, I can feel blood pouring down my face. I was feeling groggy, but I knew I had to try to stay awake. I slowly fade in and out of conscious.
"Fuck." A hear a nurse say under her breath as we finally arrived into my hospital room. "We're losing him!" She begin to perform CPR as I once again fade out of conscious. Quickly, it comes back, and then the life saving tactic just hurts like a bitch. "Agh!" I groan in pain. "You're back." said the nurse, relieved.
A doctor rushes into the room and starts quizzing the nurse on what I would assume it's what's up with me.
. The doctor then moves over to wear I'm gently laying. "Hey! Can you hear me?" He yells as everything fades away. I can see his lips move, but I can't hear what he's saying. With my last breath, I think of the only thing I can say. "Why..." I whisper in the loudest voice I can manage. Everything fades to black.
(Author's Note: I hoped you enjoyed this. I've been reading shit about the 27 club earlier and I, just now at almost 3 am, came up with this idea and I just typed it out off the top of my head, so excuse anything not good.)
(Thanks for reading!)
YOU ARE READING
The 27 Club
FanfictionMy name is Daniel Hopper. I'm only 27 years old. I'm a failure of a musician but the future for my band seemed promising. Unfortunately, during the celebration of said promising future, I somehow end up face down on the sidewalk, and eventually swi...
