39. Shiloh
Shiloh
My shift at the Wooden Cowboy consisted of being paranoid, bathed in beer, and yelled at by some drunks, so that was pretty fun. Every time the door opened, I expected Grey to walk through with a gun in his hand, as if he was standing there while I told Ledger the truth.
I get home and head straight for the shower. Sniffing my shirt, I nearly gag with the scent of beer and sigh tossing it on the floor. Maybe if I soak it, the smell will come out.
After my shower, I find a can of soup and sit in my pile of pillows and blankets to find something online to watch. I don’t have a subscription for streaming anything, but I think I can find something to look at long enough for me to chill out and go to bed.
It’s days like these that seem to be harder than anything else. Ledger would ask me how my shift was if I got home at a decent hour. Or I’d crawl into bed with him and he’d wrap his arms around me and I wouldn’t need anything else. He was all I needed anyway.
I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I stare at my soup and my stomach twists instead of growls. So much for eating.
I stare at the computer screen for another ten minutes before my eyes feel too heavy to see anything.
Before crawling to bed, I check my locks again and make sure my gun is next to the bed before falling into an exhausted, fitful sleep.
Waking up to pee, I trudge to the bathroom, forgoing the light.
After I finish my business, I head back to bed, then the door flies open.
Two men in masks step through and I don’t think I act.
Running to my room, I leap across my twin bed and grab my gun, turning and pointing it.
Firing it a couple of times, leaving me with four bullets.
One groans, I think I clipped him on the shoulder, while the other ducks and grabs my ankle, dragging me.
The gun slips through my fingers as I fight and kick, landing my heel at his balls, and scream at the top of my lungs.
Whoever lives downstairs should have heard me.
Turning onto my belly, I crawl, trying to reach the gun again and fire, but he pushes my arm up at the last minute, and the gun fires into the ceiling.
The one I didn’t shoot grabs me by the hair and lifts me by the neck, throwing me against the wall. I groan, trying to catch my breath, and while keeping my eyes on him, feel around for the gun. It’s dark. The moon barely comes through my blinds. We’re all blind in here.
One of them steps up to me, and I take the heel of my hand, driving it up into his junk. He roars and I take my moment, running out of my apartment and down the stairs.
I have to get to Ledger.