Colt.
I stare at the ceiling of this hospital room counting down the f*****g hours until I finish my “surgery”.
The air is thick with beeping sounds and the smell of bleach and fake lavender, that’s a sorry attempt at hiding the disgusting smell of sick people.
I f*****g hate hospitals and here I am all because of Rain.
I shift slightly, and a sharp, satisfying twinge of pain radiates from my right shoulder.
The injuries from my accident are real enough to keep my act real, but minor enough to be irrelevant. I can even move the f*****g arm. But at the moment it’s wrapped in a heavy, professional-grade sling, and a thick wrap of bandage circles my forehead like a well deserved crown.
To anyone walking through that door, I’m a man who has almost died. All in the name of “Love”.
I shou
