I lay motionless in the dark alleyway while my life was hanging by a thread. Sog was looking down at me, satisfied with his work. If I showed even an inkling of a sign that I was still alive, he’d make sure he finished his job properly this time. So I lay still, my head throbbing with pain and covered with sweat and blood, while Sog walked away. If I could get myself to hospital I might still make it.
I tried to get up, but the action proved too excruciating to complete. Sog must have done irrepairable damage to my spine. I would be lucky to walk again. I wanted to call out, but I knew that Sog and his gang would surely finish the job a second time. Soaking in a pool of my own blood, I hoped someone would discover me. After some time went by, I groped at my face blindly. I could hardly recognise a single feature. My own mother wouldn’t be able to recognise me, let alone Sog.
So Sog had won. If I make it I’ll change my name and move to another country. No one will ever hear of Des Featherby again.

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