Page 151 of Under Your Scars
He waves the bottle in the direction of his friend and then tosses it to him. “You ever tried these with some liquor?”
His friend tosses them back. “Nah, man. The high any good?”
He unzips his backpack to stuff them inside. “Fucking phenomenal—”
I press my gun firmly to his head. “Hand it over or lose the back of your skull.”
The man drops the pills and puts his hands up in surrender as his friend stares at us in horror.
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble man.”
I lower my gun and pick up the bottle before shoving it into my tactical pants. It rattles with each step I take away from them.
“Hey, asshole!”
I pause mid-step and turn my head slightly to look over my shoulder. I can see the muzzle of a gun flash against the flashlights they’re holding.
“Give me the pills,” he demands.
He called his friend the idiot, but he’s the only one making stupid decisions right now.
His friend will live longer, that’s for sure.
I turn around fully. The one holding the gun definitely has a Napoleon complex. He’s got to be at least a foot shorter than me. I reach into my pocket and pull out the bottle.
“These pills?” I ask, shaking them tauntingly. He gives me a curt nod back. I start walking in his direction, slowly. I’m not intentionally trying to be threatening, but it’s easy to see in his eyes that he’s suspicious. He’s not honestly expecting me to hand over these pills, and that’s probably the first rational thought he’s had in the last five minutes. I approach him until his pistol is pressed directly into my sternum. I hold the pills above my head. “Well? Since you wanted them so badly, go on, take them.”
He tightens his jaw at me and hilariously reaches up to try and grab them from me. I’m just being a dickhead now, knowing there’s no way in hell he can reach.
“Man, fuck you!” he shouts, pressing his gun further into my chest.
“Come on, man,” his friend begs, “let’s just go.”
“You got five seconds to hand me the pills or I’m blowing your head off! Five.”
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Four.”
I crack my neck.
“Three.”
I catch my reflection in the security mirror hanging on the wall.
“Two.”
What took you so long?
I was hoping he’d use the shelves to climb for them.
I won’t tell if you won’t tell.
Deal.
“One—”
The asshole never stood a chance. His arterial blood is splattered all over me and the bottles of medication before he even manages to fully get out the single syllable.
