Toes barely move anymore. I keep trying to twitch them with little result, but at least it helps keep me awake while I wait. Awake is so important. The darkness threatens, leaning in, seeming to breathe around me.
I’ve lost a lot of blood. Never believed I’d die on a job.
The gun is cold, dead weight in my lap. I flex my hand around it, making certain my grip is still secure. Sweat-slick, or is that my blood? Someone else’s. Only one of them had time to scream… God, I couldn’t leave him like that.
Please, come home soon.