8:41 AM
Unbeknownst to some, the task of "sitting and waiting", for long periods of time, strategizing each possible entrance and exit, calculating your move, with the preexisting potentialities and consequences, is not "like in the movies". Your decisions are permanent, each step you take is another second someone just out of the corner of your eye will come out, detect you as an intruder, and pop you. You need to predict everything before it happens, or else you'll catch yourself on the other end of the barrel.
They shot my fucking leg. That's bad as they got to me. Worse one is near my kneecap. They only got 3 in.
They would've done more. They would've went up, like a spider crawling up my body, each leg was another bullet flying through me. I would've been living confetti if they had another second with me.
Now, during such a stressful situation, your mind dumbs down to your own survival. You don't think about anything else for a while. You want to get up, and run as fast as you can. You'd want to hide, try to keep yourself somewhere safe so you can regain your thoughts.
It's a little ironic. How selfish I've become now. I don't think; "What will happen to me?" instead, I grit my teeth and grunt out "What will happen to them?"
He was feeling creative today. I saw the lights flicker. I felt the cold floor and my blood pooling underneath me. I heard him. Nobody else did, though.
He just...went on a spree with them, I think. I don't remember all too well. It was pitch black by the time he started taking initiative. I heard guns jam. I heard voices and bodies being crushed. They sounded so confused. It pissed me off.
None of them probably survived, I thought. He likely went on a huge enraged fit and crushed them all to bits. In a matter of seconds, I went from nearly uncovering the truth behind this organization, to having absolutely no witnesses, nor insiders to interrogate. This case is now even more impossible to expose.
But he felt nice. For that time being, it felt nice to feel his hands pick me up, gentle as ever. It felt nice to feel his embrace on me for that time being. I heard him whisper to me, but it was drowned from the gurgled screams and loud sounds of gore emitting from the dark.
He helped me make my way to the hospital. He had to let me go when I walked inside, the bright fluorescent lights shining down on the receptionist desk.
He handed me my journal here when I finally made it to my patient room. I turned all the lights off in here for him. I'm only writing because I'm trying to ignore the burning pain from these wounds. But they're all wrapped up.
I just wish he kept one of them alive. I needed just one to keep for answers. That's what's so ironic about me. I never think about my own life, but for the lives of others, yet for such a selfish reason. Nobody was the good guy in this situation.