Lights Out Boys

Chapter Twenty Two: His Noxious Personality

Song: Drowning 

Artist: Mick Jenkins feat. BadButNotGood

His Noxious Personality

Lana

The sound of the gun rang through my ears as I lowered my head and tried to gain my hearing again. The beep felt like an eternity until it finally began to decrease. My chest rose and fell with every breath I took. I tried to calm down to hear properly, but I could only listen to myself. I didn't care about the disgusting material against my eyes or my slashed wrists. Part of me wanted to see what happened while the other part was too afraid.

"U-Uncle Griff?" I called out after I calmed my breath and listened out for anything out of the ordinary. Behind me, I heard grunts followed by massive intakes. The person cursed but I couldn't pick it out since their voice was grave.

"I'm here." His voice sounded distance and almost as if he couldn't speak. I pressed my lips together to restrain myself from crying again as I thought of the worse. I had to ask him because I knew if I didn't, I wouldn't know and he wouldn't tell me.

"Have you be—been...shot?" my voice cracked as I let out a shriek and began to cry. I hadn't thought of James up until now. I hadn't heard him, but somehow, I felt a presence in the atmosphere.

"I'm okay." Uncle Griff sighed as I listened to the sound of his breathing and how it dragged. "Just in the leg, nothing severe."

I naturally thought the worse as I remembered what I went through the past few months of being in a wheelchair, bandages, and crutches. He must've said that not to worry me, but it's still a bullet. Suddenly I couldn't hear his heavy breaths and grunts which made me nervous. I wish I could've turned around and helped Uncle Griff. I didn't know how to remove a bullet or free him from the pipes but to be near him was better than my back faced to him.

"U-Uncle Griff? Are you there?" my voice came out in a whisper as I tried to calm myself. I couldn't feel my wrists anymore, so there wasn't any use in trying to free myself. For a moment I was glad I had on the material, I didn't want to see the state that both of us were in.

He didn't respond after a while. The feeling of James still being near me didn't go away, and neither did the fact that Uncle Griff might've been severely injured and he, himself didn't realize. It was like the whole world was put on mute as I silently cried alone. Mixed fetid odors filled the air, but I could only smell my own sweat and blood. Whenever my lips became dry and felt like they were about to crack open, my tears saved the day and left it damp for a while. The wire must've been in deep because I couldn't feel any pain in my wrists. My fingers hung over the edge of the armchair and twitched whenever I felt an odd presence. I knew my ankles were swollen from the multiple times I'd pull away from the chair. Thankfully I wore boots, so they weren't as bad as my wrists.

Every once in a while, I'd call out to Uncle Griff, in hope that it'd be the time he'd reply. I didn't know how long I sat in the chair but my butt became numb and eyes drooped. Even though I told myself not to sleep, it felt like I've been awake for hours. Who knew how long I was knocked out before. Maybe Mike was right at it was the following morning? Or day?

...

I wish I could've fallen asleep in the time I waited...for what? I didn't know. My head dipped for the millionth time and I finally gave in and rested. I was out of breath even though I hadn't done anything and the sweat wouldn't stop. My feet gave out so the only proper feeling I had were my shoulders. Everything else felt fake as if I were back in a wheelchair.

Something tingled my senses, and I slowly raised my head to hear. It sounded like something grinded and squeaked. I recalled my surroundings from earlier and the tracks. That must've been footsteps. When Marcus and Mike walked off, I felt the tracks shake underneath me when they stepped onto it. However, these footsteps were slow as if the person took their time.