Page 9 of Madness & Mayhem

“Oh, and, room eleven?”

I don’t turn around, though I stop, waiting for him to say whatever it is he’d like to say to me.

“I don’t like trouble here at my motel. Keep it to yourself, yeah? I don’t want any police here or anything.”

“Noted,” I grunt, before shoving my hands against the door. The case of beer knocks against the glass as the bell rings above my head.

I stumble out into the night, slipping my mask off my face as I hobble my way toward my room for the night.

The sound of tires rolling slowly through the parking lot has me turning toward Walgreens. My eyes widen a moment when I see a police car. The officer has his window down, his flashlight pointing throughout the dark lot.

Shit.

I shuffle back until my spine connects with room number five. My back goes flush with the door, and I hold my breath as the officer shines the light around the motel parking lot.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

He pauses for a second, his light shining through one of the nearby windows.

My eyes fall closed, my veins working their hardest to pump whatever blood remains through my body. I’m weak, I’m tired, and I’m in so much fucking pain.

Eventually, the car starts moving again, the light turning off as the police officer drives away.

I wait a moment, then continue shuffling toward my room. It feels like it takes forever, and by the time the rusted number eleven comes into view, my feet are no longer lifting off the ground, but dragging. My wound no longer hurts, though my entire body is ice cold, and I wonder how much blood I honestly have left in me.

With shaky fingers, I shove the key into the lock, turning it and knocking my shoulder against the sticky door. It budges after a few pushes, swinging open with a loud groan.

The scent of stale fries and old cigarettes permeate the room, and I don’t even have the strength to wrinkle my nose as I walk inside. I close the door, locking the bolt and the chain before I stumble my way to the bed.

The beer drops to the mattress, and then I fall beside it, rolling to my side.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

My heart pounds heavily, the blood in my veins rushing through me at the adrenaline from the night.

Reaching behind me, I grab the kit from the back of my jeans, ripping the plastic off with my teeth. I tear into it, placing it onto the mattress beside me and opening it up.

I can’t even get the strength to lift myself off the bed.

I unzip the package, my eyes landing on the antibiotics, gauze, needle and thread, Band-Aids, and wraps.

I flop onto my back, arching my back slightly as I pull my sweatshirt up to my chest.

I hiss out a breath as the raw air hits my skin, an almost burning sensation tearing through me. The fabric from my shirt attempts to stick to the open wound, and I rip it away with a painful groan.

My hand moves to the gauze pads, and I grab a few of them. Taking a deep breath, I press the gauze against my wound, letting out a groan as the open wound grazes against the rough material.

My head turns, and I pull on the cardboard from the case of beer, tearing it open and grabbing a can. It’s room temperature, and will surely taste like shit, but anything is better than nothing at this point.

I push myself up until I’m sitting, my head spinning to the point my vision starts to darken.

I crack open the beer, bringing it to my lips and swallowing down the entire contents. It’s warm as it rolls down my throat. Once empty, I crush the aluminum in my hands and drop it to the ground, letting out a belch as I turn my gaze back to the first aid kit.

Now or never, I guess.

I clean the wound quickly with the antibiotic ointment. Grabbing the wrap from the kit, I tear the plastic off and shove it between my teeth as I bite down and grab the needle and thread. The needle is long but thin, and I easily thread the thick stitching through the top hole, even with my shaky fingers.

With a deep breath, I glance down at my bloodied wound, now completely numb, though I’m sure I’ll be able to feel the needle work its way through my skin.

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